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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599947">miles away, all your time is heaven sent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/therestisconfetti/pseuds/therestisconfetti'>therestisconfetti</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, F/F, Touring, they are still just as soft and dumb and into each other in this universe as any other I promise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:14:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>75,110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/therestisconfetti/pseuds/therestisconfetti</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly? Santana can’t quite believe her life. In two days, she goes on tour. A tour that involves a gorgeous blonde dancer with effortless grace and a pretty smile. God, Santana's so screwed.</p><p>or: Santana's the opener of Mercedes' tour, Brittany's one of the backup dancers and everyone else just watches it all come together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi there! i've been working on this for awhile and was going to hold on it a little longer, but in honor of brittany and santana's anniversary (which is apparently today!) I decided to post the first chapter.</p><p>Essentially, it's an AU in which Mercedes, Quinn and Santana live in the original glee-verse (some things altered, obviously) while Mike and Brittany were not part of that. I hope y'all like it!</p><p>Disclaimer: I have absolutely no idea what it's like to actually partake in a tour so there are a lot of creative liberties at play here lol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Honestly? Santana can’t quite believe her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of spending her summer working an internship in New York or Los Angeles, which would probably be great for her resume, she’s going on an actual tour across the country with Mercedes, who just released her </span>
  <em>
    <span>debut album</span>
  </em>
  <span> after splitting time between Los Angeles and New York the past three years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s not like she’s tagging along as a manager or some groupie - </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’s like, actually going to sing. She’s the opener, which is like, insane, because Santana isn’t - well, Mercedes did talk her into recording a few songs with her for the debut album, but Mercedes is an actual artist, one who goes to the studio and does music full time and takes classes online at UCLA when she has the time. Santana’s, like, a full time student in NYU’s Entertainment, Media and Technology program at their </span>
  <em>
    <span>business</span>
  </em>
  <span> school. She lives in a shitty shoe-sized apartment with her best friend, Quinn, who's a super smart literature genius at Columbia, and barely makes rent. It’s just - well, she can’t believe this is happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If you told Santana this almost three years ago at graduation, she would laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three years ago, Santana was bright-eyed and excited to finally graduate high school and high tail it out of Lima, Ohio. Of course, like most seniors do, by the end of it all she was emotional and sappy for leaving a place that - she’ll admit it - gave her so much. McKinley William High School gave her three national titles with the Cheerios, her best friend in the world, and - well - a national title in show choir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ohio bent the rules, gave her a chance to be the popular cheerleader who sometimes sang show choir tunes with Mercedes, who, let’s face it, wouldn’t have been Santana’s friend without glee club. So she guesses it’s not all that bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It surprises Santana even now how they’ve stayed in contact post graduation, but she guesses that’s mainly because she lives with Quinn and the blonde has always been better at keeping in contact with people than Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Santana’s complaining - she and Mercedes get along pretty well when they’re not bickering and sing even better together and now they’re going on tour, so.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana felt suffocated in Lima, like it was holding her back. She’s always felt bigger than that small, stupid town. Her trip to New York during her junior year with the glee club had only solidified the feeling, made it so clear that she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a place like this. So, with shining eyes and a grin, she and Quinn decided they’d go to New York together after high school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now here they are, three years in, and Santana and Quinn are on the way to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tour rehearsals.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you talked me out of my internship this summer to come on tour,” Quinn laughs as they get off the subway and make their way towards the studio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks. “Internships come and go, Q. Going on tour doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like a groupie,” Quinn laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my biggest fan,” Santana teases, batting her eyelashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn shakes her head, but she’s smiling a little as she says, “Yeah, I guess I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling into step with Quinn was easy. They met at Cheerios tryouts freshman year, seemingly the only two who don’t seem to be absolutely terrified of the legendary Sue Sylvester. Santana was already full of confidence at the ripe age of fourteen, and when she muttered a particularly snarky comment about some of the girls trying out, Quinn was quick to smirk and offer an equally devilish comment back. Santana looked at her with a glint in her eye, like she’s impressed, and it felt as if she met her match. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re inseparable after that, quickly becoming Sue’s favored cheerleaders and rising the ranks in the high school social hierarchy quickly, even after they join glee club. They are mean and pretty and untouchable - and yeah, maybe they fight a lot and slap each other on occasion - but Quinn is always Santana’s best friend. Santana’s there for Quinn sophomore year when she gets pregnant and decides to keep the baby which causes Quinn to quickly fall from grace on the social scene. Quinn is there for Santana senior year when she’s outed to basically all of Ohio, wiping her tears in private and fending off assholes in public.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes they’re too much alike - too angry, too willing to bush buttons, too ready to do whatever it takes to climb to the top, but Santana knows, when she needs her, Quinn is there. She doesn’t think she’d be able to live without Quinn, and though Santana’s not the most affectionate person, Quinn gets it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get all soft on me, Fabray,” Santana scoffs, shoving her lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn laughs, regaining her balance on the sidewalk. “You’re the one who said it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Santana waves off. “I think we get to meet the dancers for the tour today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn quirks an eyebrow. “You haven’t met them yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only offers a shrug. “Most of the rehearsals Mercedes scheduled are at the same time as my classes or during finals. This is the first time I’m actually going to like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> rehearsal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes told her not to worry about it, that they could work around it. She did only ask her to come on tour with her like almost three weeks ago, after all. Santana makes up for it by doing her own separate rehearsals with the director and two of the choreographers when she’s not in class, and they insist it won’t be much different when she’s with the dancers. And plus, Santana’s sure she was born to be a star. She can totally figure it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We leave in like, two days,” Quinn gapes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” Santana insists with a roll of her eyes. “They’re mainly for Mercedes’ set anyway, not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leads them into the rundown warehouse-turned-studio, offering a nod to the receptionist she still doesn’t know the name of and walks them all the way to the back. It’s the biggest space the building has to offer and every time she walks in, Santana still feels like her body is buzzing. She can’t believe this is her life, still, after weeks of rehearsals and scheduling and her parents promising to fly out for a few shows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Sometimes, she wonders if Mercedes is crazy, adding her to the tour like this. Santana’s just a nobody in New York.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But deep down, Santana knows she’s waited for a moment like this for so long.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes spots them right away, a big smile on her face as she walks over to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just in time,” she says. “The dancers are just about warmed up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always impeccable timing,” Santana smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes shakes her head fondly at her before turning to Quinn with a grin. “I’m so excited you’re coming on tour with us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn laughs. “I turned an internship down for this, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana scoffs and gives her best friend a look. “They told you they’ll hire you in the fall, don’t try to make us feel bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn gives her a light hip check to tell her to shut up while Santana only smirks triumphantly because she knows she’s won. Mercedes shakes her head at both of them, smiling big.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for letting me tag along for the summer,” Quinn relents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone has to keep Satan in check,” Mercedes says pointedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes. “You know you love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes smiles fondly and Quinn lets out a soft chuckle. Sure, Santana and Mercedes are good friends, but because of both of them having loud and honest personalities, oftentimes they end up butting heads. Quinn has always been a good peacekeeper between them - mainly because the rest of the glee club was too afraid of Santana to try to step in - so fine, Santana will admit that maybe having Quinn around will keep the two of them from driving each other insane for the next three months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They said we’ll start with my set first and then get into yours if that’s cool,” Mercedes explains to Santana. “So y’all are free to chill anywhere on the sides and watch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shrugs. “Whatever you say, Wheezy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes lets out an affectionate scoff at the nickname Santana’s used on her for years now before she’s walking away to gather up the dancers and the rest of the crew. Quinn nudges Santana’s side with a breathless smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I have the coolest friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only laughs, watching as Mercedes and the director give a run down of how rehearsal’s going to look. “Beats that internship, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mercedes Jones has always been so damn talented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s partly why they didn’t get along at first, if Santana’s being honest. Upon her arrival to glee club in high school, she immediately zeroed in on Mercedes as a threat, perhaps her biggest competition if they ignored the heavy favoritism Mr. Schuester expressed for one Rachel Berry. But that was years ago, and now watching Mercedes run through her set, Santana can’t help but enjoy herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s proud of Mercedes, really, and they used to joke all senior year about how they’d be the two bitches who’d get out of Lima and make it big. Sitting here now, in the middle of rehearsals for a nation-wide tour, Santana knows they were right all along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is insane,” Quinn murmurs, her eyes still on the number happening in front of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is so caught up in it all, a world she’d never dreamed of for herself, the idea of tours and success she’d never thought to be measured by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Santana lets out a hum of agreement, Quinn adds, “These dancers are so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They really are,” Santana agrees, but there is one dancer in particular that she’s been watching the whole time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is tall and blonde - possibly the quite literal definition of </span>
  <em>
    <span>drop dead gorgeous,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Santana is reeled in at first glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can’t take her eyes off of the blonde. She is beautiful and confident in the way she moves, never missing a step. It looks like dancing is as easy as walking for her, the way she moves with the music. She has Santana absolutely entranced from the moment she takes her first step and she can’t seem to look away. Sure, the others are good, too, but it’s the blonde girl that Santana watches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Quinn whispers. “You’re drooling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tease is enough to snap Santana out of her trance for a moment, turning her head to glare at her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snaps in a quiet voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn smirks. “You’re eye-fucking that blonde over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn Quinn for knowing her so well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be so crude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rich coming from you,” Quinn snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a look, trying not to look so flustered. “I’m simply appreciating her talents, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn raises her eyebrows, clearly amused as she hums, “Yeah, that’s what we’re calling it these days, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t make me slap you,” Santana warns, but her cheeks are still kind of flushed so she turns away before Quinn can make another comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she’s staring at a really talented dancer. Isn’t that what you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do? It’s not Santana’s fault this particular dancer also happens to be like, really hot. She has eyes for crying out loud, god forbid she doesn’t use them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song ends far too quickly for Santana’s liking, and she and Quinn are applauding with the rest of the crew not involved in the number as the director gives his praises for a successful run through. Santana can’t help the way her gaze drifts to the blonde, who gives a triumphant fist pump and high fives the dancer next to her. It’s totally dorky, but it’s so endearing Santana feels herself smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone looks so good,” the director claps proudly. “Let’s run through Santana’s numbers then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the sound of her name, Santana perks up. Mercedes gives her an encouraging nod as she walks off to the side to chug some water. Quinn helps Santana off the floor they were just sitting on and gives her a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re up, diva.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling anyway as she walks away and she tells Quinn, “Don’t call me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she turns back around, Santana almost runs right into someone. She trips on a shoe or honestly it could even be the floor, and she’s probably looking at a totally embarrassing face plant, but she’s caught by two strong hands that pull her back to a standing position with ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, sorry about that. Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Santana’s feet are firmly back on the ground, she looks up to find that she is quite literally in the arms of the blonde dancer she’s been - for lack of better words - taking in for the better part of the past hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl’s got a steady grip on both of her arms, keeping in her place, and Santana suddenly feels dizzy and she hopes her cheeks aren’t flushed because not only did she almost make a fool of herself but the hot dancer </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinks she’s an idiot now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-yeah,” Santana nods furiously, not quite able to meet the blonde’s eyes. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking - the floor - and I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, don’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Santana does look at the dancer, she’s immediately lost in piercing bright blue eyes that are extremely expressive and warm. Santana thinks her knees go a little weak and she really hates herself at this moment. The blonde is wearing an easy smile as she gently lets Santana’s arms go, and Santana immediately notices the lack of warmth where her hands just were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just hope you’re better at dancing than you are at walking,” the dancer teases with a playful look in her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana opens her mouth, but is unable to come up with a response outside of stuttering like an idiot before the blonde is shooting her one last smile and practically twirling away as the director is starting to rattle off some notes before they start.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it, Santana.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks back at Quinn one more time, and when she realizes her best friend is biting the inside of her cheek so she doesn’t burst out in laughter, she knows Quinn just saw the whole exchange. She also knows that Quinn won’t be letting her live </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> down for a while, not that she ever lets her live anything like that down for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because, well, here’s the thing about Santana: for all the glares and venomous insults she spews out and was infamously known for in high school, she is an absolute panicked gay mess when it comes to talking to any pretty girl. Quinn’s been an unfortunate witness over the years, and honestly, she just likes being there so she can make fun of Santana later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“I think it’s adorable, San,” Quinn laughed one day. “You would think someone like you would be a smooth talker with looks and glances and all that. It’s a nice surprise, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, Q,” Santana snapped, cheeks still red from her fleeting encounter from a particularly hot girl behind the counter of the school bookstore.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana can’t even get a threatening scowl in because the director is suddenly clapping his hands together and telling everyone to get into position and Santana finds her place in front of the rest of the dancers. When she looks at the mirror wall in front of them, Santana realizes the blonde dancer is part of this performance. She finds herself pleasantly surprised, her lips quirking just a little. Blue eyes meet hers through the mirror, and the blonde offers a small smile before the music starts playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s run the number through a ton of times before in her solo rehearsals, but doing it with backup dancers now makes everything that much more </span>
  <em>
    <span>real.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It feels like a rush of nostalgia at first, back to her days of high school glee club - of rehearsals and choreography and the way she only half sings as she runs through the number. But she falls into it so easily, moving as if she’s rehearsed with the dancers this whole time, and she doesn’t miss the looks on Quinn and Mercedes’ faces as she struts around, both of them looking at her as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>she belongs here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And Santana can’t help it if, sometimes, when she spins or turns or moves, her eyes are searching for the blonde. She always seems to be nearby, close enough for Santana to look at for only a moment before they are moving to the next set of moves. She moves so effortlessly, as if she’s been dancing for as long as she’s been alive. When she catches Santana’s eye a time or two, her eyes are lit up in unexplainable joy, like dancing is as much a necessity to her as breathing. It does nothing but pull Santana in until she’s forced to look away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, Santana is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>screwed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with the distraction of the blonde dancer, Santana knows she’s nailed it by the last note. The cheers around her are loud, and she hides the smirk on her lips, offering a flip of her hair and a shrug. She knows a lot of them are impressed. They hadn’t known what to expect from her, only what Mercedes had told them, whatever that is. But Santana knows now, she belongs just as much as the rest of them. Those silly little things she used to tell herself in high school about being a star feel a little more true as the dancers all high five her and Mercedes lets out a whoop of approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When her eyes fall on that blonde dancer, she is cheering louder than the rest, an impressed look on her face. When her gaze meets Santana’s, she’s giving her a big grin and a thumbs up. Santana feels her chest swell, the approval of this woman she barely knows means more to her than it probably should, and she offers only a smile back before she can make a fool of herself again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana that was amazing,” the director gushes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told y’all!” Mercedes pipes up from the spot she’s taken next to Quinn. “Santana didn’t come to play, she’s all business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana chuckles softly. “Just trying to keep up with ‘Cedes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well let’s keep it going then,” the director suggests with a clap of his hands. “Grab some water and we’re onto the next song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like you haven’t stopped since high school,” Quinn comments, handing Santana her water bottle when she saunters over with a grin. “Seriously, San. You look like a natural.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, she’s seen a lot of the work that most people don’t, how Santana is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>winner</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she’ll be damned if she’s not the best at what she does, especially when it comes to performing. Quinn learned this early on when they were in the Cheerios, the two of them set on becoming top dogs and rehearsing even long after practice was after, going over routines in their bedrooms and backyards. The same translated over to glee club, for every competition, every big number - there were few more determined than Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had come home a time or two to their tiny apartment to find Santana in the living room, music blasting. Or she’d pass by the door to her best friend’s bedroom, hearing her sing the same song over and over again until she’s sure Santana can sing it all backwards and forwards in her sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Quinn </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> how hard Santana’s worked for this, but still, the way she makes it look so effortless, even now, is something she thinks she’s lucky to even be a witness to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only shrugs as she takes the bottle, like it’s no big deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> a natural,” she deadpans with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn shakes her head, a small smile on her face before Santana is tossing her water bottle back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re about to kill it on this tour,” Mercedes decides, her smile big and eyes shining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can’t help but agree before she’s off to rehearse her next number.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not Brittany’s first tour, but she’s so excited that in many ways, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> like it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had met Mercedes a few months before the girl had released her debut album, through none other than Mike Chang, who had been one of Mercedes’ backup dancers at a couple of her performances and one of her upcoming music videos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike’s like, one of Brittany’s best buds. They went to the same high school and danced together often, but Mike was a year older so he graduated first and moved to Los Angeles to kickstart his career. It wasn’t until Brittany herself graduated and made plans for a move to pursue dancing professionally that she reached out to Mike, who actually happened to be making a move to New York soon to work with a dance studio. He needed a roommate and it just so happened the studio needed another dancer, and Brittany and Mike have been roommates ever since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Living with Mike is easy. He’s like the most easy-going guy she’s ever met, and it’s not long before they’re quickly becoming good friends. She definitely can count on him for anything, and he’s always looking out for her like he’s her big brother or something, which is really cool. His girlfriend’s really nice too - she comes over often and cooks a lot and she makes Brittany laugh and isn’t the jealous type at all, so really, it’s a solid deal for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Mike work on a lot of the same projects, and they’re always helping each other scout for new opportunities. When Mercedes’ team is immediately asking Mike to join her as a dancer, she’s also asking if Brittany is available, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Me?” Brittany asked when Mike got home that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s met Mercedes only a handful of times and she’s pretty sure the girl’s only seen Brittany dance like once. She wasn’t sure how she could even qualify for going on tour with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike nodded like it was obvious and answered, “Mercedes knows talent when she sees it. She’s like, totally obsessed with how good you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany twisted her lips, because despite all the people who tell her she’s good at dancing, despite the fact she may or may not have been a backup dancer for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Beyonce</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a spell</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she still can’t quite believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Mike has never doubted her - he's never lied to her either - so she couldn’t help but smile when he gave her those eager puppy eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in.”.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany finds she gets along with Mercedes pretty well, and they are often joking amongst themselves in down time. Mercedes is nice and </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> talented and her team has put together some really good numbers for this tour. Brittany’s like, totally convinced Mercedes is going to blow up into this huge star soon, and she’s just lucky she gets to be here for the ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she doesn’t expect is for Mercedes’ opener, Santana Lopez, to look like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Other than knowing her name and that Mercedes mentioned going to high school with her and recording a few songs with the girl, Brittany hadn’t heard much else about the mysterious opening act. Mercedes had informed them that Santana was actually a student at NYU, and between classes and rehearsals timing was tough, so until the week before the tour, she would be doing her own rehearsals at a different time. To some, they seemed irritated to not be able to work with her until right before they leave, but Brittany thought it was cool. She could never imagine being able to do dance while also studying and being super smart, so she thinks Santana has to be some magical genius to be able to balance both somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We finally get to meet Santana Lopez today,” Mike comments while they stretched at the start of rehearsals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany lets out a thoughtful hum. “I wonder if she’s cool like Mercedes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t hear Mike’s reply because the doors to the studio room they’re using open and in walk two girls. One is blonde and thin and elegant in a sundress and heels. The other - well, it’s a miracle Brittany’s jaw doesn’t drop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other girl looks like she walks into every room with confidence and poise. She’s slim and brunette and her eyes are a deep brown that Brittany finds she wants to get lost in. To be quite honest, Brittany feels like she’s had the air sucked out of her. And it’s pathetic, because Brittany </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> drools over anyone like this, but this girl? God, she’s never seen anyone like her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s Santana I’m guessing,” Mike comments, snapping Brittany out of her trance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks, turning to look at him. “Um, yeah, I guess that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike raises his eyebrows playfully, a grin beginning to grow on his face. “You totally think she’s hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I didn’t even say anything,” Brittany argues, but her cheeks are flushed and she purposely avoids looking at the brunette again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to,” Mike laughs, his grin full out now. “You were checking her out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gapes. “I wasn’t!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But her cheeks are even more flushed now that Mike’s called her out and they both know it. Mike only shakes his head as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Brittany leans over to gently smack his leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I don’t blame you,” her friend offers with a shrug. “She’s pretty attractive. I’d be staring too if I wasn’t in love with my girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut up,” Brittany groans, sitting up so she can properly shove Mike’s shoulders. “We get it, you’re in a healthy, long-term relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike laughs fondly, well aware that Brittany’s only teasing. She thinks it’s cute how Mike and his girlfriend are so in love and are probably the pinnacle of a healthy relationship, really, though sometimes it makes it painfully obvious that she’s single.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike doesn’t get a chance at another light jab because Mercedes is gathering everyone up with their director to go over the plan for today’s rehearsal. Brittany tries to listen, she really does, but her eyes can’t help but drift back to Santana and the blonde, who find a place to sit against the mirrors. Mercedes introduces Santana to the group, and the brunette offers a wave from her seat next to the blonde, who Mercedes introduces as Santana’s best friend, Quinn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Brittany ignores the way something eases in her stomach at the mention of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>best friend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not her business, she’s hardly even met Santana. There’s no reason she should be pleased or upset at the fact the pretty blonde she walked in with is not, in fact, her girlfriend.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany feels an excited buzz in her stomach as they really get into rehearsal. She’s practically in every number that requires backup dancers, and she feels like she could run through the whole concert in her sleep by now. There are few things more satisfying than nailing every bit of choreography for a show, and when she meets Mike’s eyes mid-dance, she knows he’s feeling the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of Mercedes’ set, Brittany’s definitely sweating through her shirt, but she hardly even cares. Mike is tossing her a water bottle and they both chug eagerly before they start Santana’s numbers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys are killing it,” Mercedes nods to them, a little breathless but full of smiles as she passes by Mike and Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only the best for your tour,” Mike jokes with a cheeky grin, then looks at Brittany. “Seriously, you’re on another level today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany sheepishly shrugs as she swallows a mouthful of water. “I’m feeling good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it because a certain opener is here today?” Mike asks in a playful tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Brittany laughs, pushing at Mike’s shoulder. “Of course not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike shrugs, unconvinced and wearing a teasing smile as he says, “Well, she’s definitely noticed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany rolls her eyes. “Liar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not!” Mike insists as he throws his hands up in mock surrender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, right. As if Santana would be looking at her of all people in her. Brittany’s a good dancer - this much she knows - but so is everyone else. There’s no reason Santana would single her out when everyone is just as talented and can keep up just the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Brittany shakes her head, tossing her water bottle back at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s curious to see Santana in action, to see if she’s as good a performer as she is a singer. The first time she heard Santana’s voice, when they informed the dancers they’d be adding Santana as an opener and had them start listening to the songs she’d be performing, Brittany was drawn in almost immediately. Something about the way she sings is hypnotizing and Brittany is constantly craving more. Santana’s voice is beautiful, raw and honest and Brittany can’t seem to get enough, no matter how many times she plays the songs. She thinks she could listen to Santana sing forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany starts to make her way towards Santana to introduce herself, figuring it’s the least she can do since they’re about to spend three months on the road together. Gravity, however, doesn’t seem to be on Santana’s side today and she trips on practically nothing and is making a beeline for the floor. Brittany’s instincts manage to kick in and she reaches out, grabbing Santana by the arms before she hits the ground. She pulls Santana up quickly, and the girl is completely flustered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s kind of cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of being a normal person and saying something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hi, I’m Brittany and I’m excited to tour with you this summer,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she instead decides to tease Santana about her almost-fall. She can’t help it, really, the flustered look doesn’t quite look like it belongs on Santana’s face, not with the way she carries herself or the way she’s been smirking and rolling her eyes at her friend and Mercedes the whole rehearsal - not that Brittany’s been looking, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana can’t so much as utter out a coherent sentence, and her cheeks are tinted pink, and Brittany kind of loves the way she’s caught Santana off guard this way, so she leaves her with another cheeky comment before twirling away to where her spot is. Mike gives her a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Way to go, Britt. I think you spooked her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany pouts. “It’s not my fault she tripped over the air! She’s lucky I was there to catch her!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A true lady knight in shining armor,” Mike chuckles. “How romantic of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany only rolls her eyes, not even bothering to respond. When she looks at the mirror in front of them, she finds Santana’s eyes on her and her lips quirked up in what looks like a hint of a smile. Brittany can’t tell what it means, if she’s nervous or excited, but she smiles back nonetheless and tries not to think too hard about what it means when Santana’s smile grows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the music starts playing and suddenly Brittany isn’t doing any thinking at all. It’s all beats and rhythms and moves. This is what she knows best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana? Santana looks like a natural through it all. She hits every beat, every turn, every step. She’s got the microphone in her hand and sings quietly along with her own song, and god, Brittany can’t quite look away for more than a moment. If listening to Santana sing was hypnotizing enough, then watching her perform is an even more incredible experience. And it’s stupid, because they’re at rehearsal and they know the actual tour is going to be bigger than this, but here, in this moment, Brittany is convinced Santana Lopez was always meant to be a star.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The attitude, the talent, the moves - Brittany is hooked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeez, she’s really going to spend this tour staring at Santana the whole time, isn’t she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of it all almost two hours later, Brittany is absolutely gassed. What she needs is a nice, long hot shower and some food after this, but she lives for this feeling. Their director is giving some final notes for the day before he sends them off, and as soon as he’s done, Brittany is bounding up to Santana, who is now covered in sweat with loose strands from her ponytail sticking to her neck, and giving her a teasing smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess you do dance better than you walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs, pure and unrestrained, and Brittany finds she loves the melodic sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I do,” she shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, you’re really good,” Brittany continues, mainly because she can’t help herself. “I’m really happy you’re coming on tour with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s lips curl up into an easy, breathtaking smile that reveal dimples in her cheeks and her eyes light up, almost sparkling. Brittany wants to keep pulling these reactions out of the girl forever, even if she’s trying to ignore the warm feeling currently growing in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well thanks, I’m just lucky Mercedes asked me to come,” Santana replies, looking a little bashful and a lot grateful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Brittany by the way,” the dancer adds, sticking her hand out. “I was going to introduce myself earlier, you know, before you almost face planted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s cheeks flush and she looks embarrassed at the mention, and Brittany feels a little bad, but also Santana kind of looks cute when she’s embarrassed, so. Brittany twists her lips to hide her smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God I’m sorry you had to see that,” Santana manages to laugh, taking Brittany’s hand and giving her an easy handshake, her slender fingers fitting easily in Brittany’s hand. “But thank you for saving me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany grins. “Can’t have our opener twist an ankle now, can we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t,” Santana agrees, smiling back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo, Britt! Let’s go, I’m hungry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both their heads see Mike by the door, his head poking back to look at Brittany expectantly. Brittany kind of hates him right now because she is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the middle of something, but he doesn’t seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls her hand out of Santana’s grasp, noticing how she misses the warmth right away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I uh, I gotta go,” she stutters out, very aware of Mike watching them now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives one last glance at Mike before offering Brittany another smile. “Well, it was nice meeting you Britt. I’ll see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get used to it,” Brittany says playfully. “You’ll be seeing me for three months straight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana chuckles, shaking her head at the comment but her eyes shine with something that makes Brittany’s stomach turn when she answers, “Can’t wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany throws one more smile over her shoulder before she’s jogging after Mike, who decided he didn’t want to wait anymore and is halfway down the hall by the time she catches up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t have waited another minute?” she asks with a frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike looks at her with raised eyebrows. “Oh, were you in the middle of something with the hot opener?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany hip checks him, but her cheeks flush. “I was just introducing myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think Britt-Britt’s got a little crush,” Mike sing-songs as they exit the dance studio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hush,” Brittany grumbles, doing her best not to look at Mike, who is now wearing a shit-eating grin. “She’s like, super hot and talented, okay? That’s not a crush. It’s just like, you know, being aware of those facts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Mike hums. “Whatever you say. Don’t worry, I won’t tell her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gives him a look. “Have I ever told you that you’re like the annoying brother I never asked for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike laughs, throwing an arm around her as he replies, “Once or twice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, leaning into him as they walk towards the subway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike’s right though, Brittany </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> has a crush on the hot opener.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s in so much trouble.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a miracle Quinn is able to hold off on teasing until they meet up with Mercedes later that evening for dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when Santana thinks she’s in the clear, Quinn manages to find a perfect transition in their conversation to bring up rehearsal and the dancer Santana was so obviously drawn to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those dancers are seriously no joke,” Santana mentions around a forkful of pasta.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes chuckles, a proud smile on her face. “They really aren’t. I’m lucky they were all available and wanted to come on tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn takes a slow sip of her wine, eyes lit up with mischief as she contributes, “Yeah, Mercedes, they’re really good. In fact, one of them in particular is so good that Santana couldn’t stop ogling at her the entire rehearsal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes raises her eyebrows in amusement while Santana sends daggers at Quinn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ogling?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Santana repeats. “What the fuck are you, my grandma?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of us are more educated in the English language,” Quinn quips with a shrug, unbothered by the death glare Santana’s fixed on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got eyes for one of my dancers already?” Mercedes asks Santana with a laugh, more entertained than bothered by this new information. “Which one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn lets out an exaggerated hum. “What was her name again, San? She introduced herself earlier, didn’t she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives a particularly hard eye roll at Quinn’s teasing, trying very hard to not let her cheeks flush as she answers, “Her name’s Brittany, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(There’s no </span>
  <em>
    <span>I think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s kind of been thinking of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany</span>
  </em>
  <span> and their short-lived conversation since rehearsal ended.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes’ eyes light up in recognition almost immediately, a smile appearing on her face when she responds, “Brittany, the blonde? I love that girl! She’s so insanely talented, genuinely nice, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can’t help the way her lips form into a tiny smile at Mercedes’ comment. She looks down at her plate to avoid eye contact with her friends, pushing around the remaining pasta still there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, she’s good I guess,” she agrees, trying not to allow herself to ramble on about how she thinks Brittany is the best dancer she’s ever seen and has the friendliest smile and the kindest eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, she’ll save them the endless gay pining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, you couldn’t look away from her if you tried,” Quinn scoffs. “Except for, you know, when you literally ran into her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quinn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana, are you trying to hurt my dancers before the tour even starts?” Mercedes asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s mainly teasing, but Santana can see the slight worry in her eyes and the way she will most certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> hold back if Santana does end up causing one of her dancers - maybe even her </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> dancer - any injury.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t run into her,” Santana huffs, crossing her arms. “She’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh that’s right, you tripped on nothing,” Quinn provides with a smirk. “And then couldn’t even put two words together when she caught you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, Quinn’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> in for it later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes gives her a look. “Girl, not this again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana turns her glare to her other friend now despite knowing it’ll have no effect whatsoever. Like Quinn, Mercedes has witnessed a few of Santana’s pathetic panics when it comes to attractive women. She had been surprised at first, knowing Santana’s usual demeanor, but also like Quinn, finds it highly amusing when she gets to bare witness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basically, Santana’s friends love to make her miserable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Out of love, she guesses.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should’ve seen it, ‘Cedes, when Santana realized who caught her she turned so red,” Quinn recalls, giggling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah laugh it up,” Santana deadpans as she drinks a generous amount of wine. “I’m hilarious, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn turns her attention back to Mercedes, leaning in just a little with a wicked look in her eye. It reminds Santana so much of high school - the way Quinn had always been privy to gossip, always having an ear out for the happenings around McKinley. Sure, Santana loved a little gossip here and there, maybe even started a rumor or two over the years, but Quinn’s need for </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the details has always been something Santana’s never quite shared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the deal with her and the asian guy?” she asks in a lower voice, like it’s a secret waiting to be unleashed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes at how dramatic Quinn’s being, but she looks at Mercedes anyway, curious for the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike? I know they’re super close,” Mercedes offers with a shrug. “I met Mike first and he introduced me to Brittany. I think they live together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tries not to visibly deflate at the new information, but Quinn manages to catch it anyway because she’s offering a somewhat sympathetic look her way. It’s not like it should matter or like Mercedes even gave them much to go off of, it’s just - well, of course all the girls Santana’s been into lately are taken or straight or emotionally unavailable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Brittany’s any of those things, at least, not for sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, living together doesn’t mean-” Quinn starts, but Santana cuts her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Santana shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I’m in love with the girl and trying to make lady babies with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes snorts behind her glass, shaking her head at Santana’s choice of words. Quinn twists her lips to hide her smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s a really fucking good dancer who also happens to be hot. Sue me for noticing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure did notice,” Quinn mutters before shoving a forkful of pasta into mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana snaps her narrow gaze back at her best friend. “Screw you, Fabray.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes shakes her head, sighing as she wonders, “Three months of this? Why did I do this to myself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks, raising her glass up towards the singer as she shoots back, “I could ask you the same thing, Wheezy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In two days, she goes on tour with two of her closest friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tour that involves a gorgeous blonde with effortless grace and a pretty smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s not mad about it at all.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite being on the move like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time because of her job, Brittany absolutely hates packing. She wishes someone could do it for her and has asked Mike many times before if he could just throw her clothes all together, but he always tells her to stop being lazy and just get it done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to pack three months worth of clothes,” Brittany whines, staring at her open suitcase with what looks like a total of three outfits haphazardly tossed inside. “That’s just too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike pops his head through the doorway over her bedroom, giving her a look. “You were gone for five on that one dance tour, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany tosses a pair of socks at him, watching as they hit his shoulder and fall to the floor before she groans, “Whatever. Packing sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what happens when you wait until the last minute,” Mike chuckles with a shake of his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, he’s rolling out his own fully packed suitcase into their living room. Brittany makes a face at him, resisting a comment about how Mike is the most time efficient and organized guy she knows, and looks helplessly as the clothes scattered around her room with a defeated sigh. She’s still trying to figure out where to even begin when she hears the front door open and the smell of takeout wafts around the apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dinner!” Brittany exclaims excitedly, sprinting out of her bedroom and right over to Mike’s girlfriend, Tina, to help her with the bags of food in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina laughs. “Hungry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More like procrastinating,” Mike quips from behind Brittany, ignoring her pout to give his girlfriend a quick kiss. “Someone hasn’t packed yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany,” Tina scolds lightly, but there is laughter in her voice. “You do this every time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just part of who I am,” Brittany shrugs with a dramatic sigh that makes Tina laugh and Mike shake his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s become somewhat of a tradition for the three of them to have dinner together the night before Mike or Brittany - or in this case both of them - leave the city for some sort of tour or project. Brittany loves Mike and Tina, both as individuals but also as a couple. They’re not annoying about their relationship in the slightest, and for the most part, Brittany doesn’t feel like a third wheel around them. And when Brittany actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> dating someone, they’re eager to let Brittany’s significant other in on their little traditions and regular outings. Bottom line, they’re awesome and Brittany kind of loves them a lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your last final?” Brittany asks as they split the food up amongst themselves at the small kitchen table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina rolls her eyes, pouring herself an excessive amount of wine as she says, “I think I passed, and really, that’s all I’m hoping for at this point. I’m so done with this semester, I’m so glad it’s over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you did great,” Mike assures her. “You studied really hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods in agreement. “Yeah, I didn’t see you for like almost a week because you were studying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina gives them both a grateful smile. Brittany likes Tina a lot. She likes to think, if she and Mike weren’t dating, that they would’ve become friends somehow, someway. Tina is nice, but she’s quick with a comeback and when you get her worked up - well, good luck. She’s a sucker for gossip, and honestly she’s the main reason Brittany even knows what half of today’s celebrities are up to. She cares about people and is always making sure her friends - and Mike, obviously - are okay. She’s really cool, and Brittany doesn’t mind the fact she has an extra key to their place and comes over all the time. Honestly, she’s kind of surprised she hasn’t moved in or found a place for her and Mike to live together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Brittany isn’t complaining, she likes having a roommate and by extension another one coming in the form of Tina.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay enough about boring old Columbia,” Tina insists with a wave of her hand. “How excited are you guys for the tour?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so pumped!” Brittany gushes around her orange chicken. “Mercedes is like, so awesome and the choreography is so good! I think it’s going to be the best tour I’ve been on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike nods enthusiastically. “Totally, I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. Britt’s in almost every single number, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina beams at Brittany, who smiles shyly. “Britt! That’s awesome, I’m so proud of you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shrugs, poking at her food. “It’s no big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like your crush on Santana is no big deal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes snap up to Mike who is wiggling his eyebrows and giving her a teasing smirk. Tina looks between them, that curious look on her face growing. Brittany knows Mike brought it up on </span>
  <em>
    <span>purpose, </span>
  </em>
  <span>mainly because they haven’t talked about it since Santana’s first rehearsal and since then they’ve had two more and both of them involved Brittany in awe because Santana full out sang through the run through and Brittany was floored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana Lopez can really do it all and Brittany is the sucker that gets to watch it all happen every day. She thinks the singer might end up being the death of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s talked to Santana maybe two or three times since the first rehearsal, just quick compliments and maybe Santana isn’t as much of a blushing fool as she was the first time, but she still looks at Brittany like her compliments mean the world, and yeah, Brittany is hooked. Santana always smiles at her when she arrives at rehearsal and before she leaves, and Brittany knows it shouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything, but it doesn’t stop her stomach from fluttering and her chest from feeling all warm like a hug. Santana might be the death of her and they haven’t even actually started the tour yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana, like the tour opener?” Tina asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes are on Brittany now, and Brittany’s known her long enough to know that look. She looks like she’s about to pull all the gossip out of Brittany - not like there’s much to tell - but she’s on a mission and Brittany knows there’s no stopping her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shrugs, going back to pushing her food around her takeout box as she answers, “Yeah, I mean, it’s nothing. She’s just like, really hot and talented.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you flirt with her every chance you get,” Mike adds, unprompted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t!” Brittany argues, giving Mike a pout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike laughs, looking at Tina eagerly as he continues, “It’s a real treat to watch. Brittany lays out the total Pierce charm and she has Santana of all people flustered. Like, most of rehearsal Santana’s all business and she’s super quick-witted and maybe a little snarky if you rub her the wrong way, but as soon as Brittany opens her mouth, she’s totally putty in her hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany scoffs, trying to hide her smile as she looks at Tina. “It’s not like that at all, don’t listen to him. I’m just being friendly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina looks incredibly amused by this information, leaning forward as she says, “Have we got a new crush, Britt-Britt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany half-heartedly glares at Mike, who shrugs as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>It was bound to come up sooner or later.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know - I barely know her,” Brittany reminds them. “It’s just unfair that she’s gorgeous and smart and really good at singing and also good at dancing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina’s wearing a grin so wide her face might burst at her words, and Brittany knows she’s given up all her cards now. Mike smiles like he’d planned this all along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a crush on her!” Tina decides, gleeful as she almost spills her wine. “Brittany, that’s so cute!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany groans, hiding her face in her hands to keep them from seeing the obvious blush spread on her cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to dance,” she whines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you will,” Mike assures her, then adds, “With Santana every night for three months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you, Mike Chang,” Brittany deadpans, lifting her head to give him her best glare, but it falls flat because she can’t really be mad, not when Mike is smiling like a child and Tina looks at her like </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> remembering what it was like to have a crush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me know when the wedding is,” Tina teases with a giddy grin, to which Mike laughs loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany chuckles softly, shaking her head at them both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, she’s so screwed these next three months.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank y'all so much for all the lovely feedback on the first chapter! I'll be updating probably weekly for this fic, and may end up adding a chapter depending on how things play out. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Santana knows she’s going on tour. She knows she’s packed all her belongings she’ll need for the next three months. Still, when she and Quinn leave their apartment that day and take an Uber to the airport where they’ll meet up with everyone else involved with Mercedes’ tour, it feels like a daze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn is giddy and excited and makes sure they have everything from wallets to plane tickets to everything else in between. Santana’s a little quieter today, and Quinn notices after they’ve checked their bags. She leans over when they’re a little separated from the group, a bright smile in her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really happening,” she murmurs quietly, voice full of pride. “You’re going on tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Santana nods, a little breathless at the words. “I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know how to finish her sentence, how to put into words that she’s not quite sure how or why it’s happening to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it is and it’s incredible and overwhelming all at once. Santana doesn’t know how to say she always dreamed of something like this but didn’t think it would happen, not with school and money and every other damn thing that’s gotten in her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she doesn’t have to say anything else because Quinn’s her best friend and she gets it right away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s eyes soften along with her smile and she gives Santana’s arm a squeeze. “I know, San. I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in, lips curving into a smile at Quinn’s understanding and how they’ve never really done sentimental things but here, when it counts, she’s glad her best friend gets to experience this with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they reach their gate, Santana’s feeling more like herself, talkative with a touch of playful snarkiness. Mercedes sits with them for a few minutes, chatting excitedly before she’s being whisked away by her manager - which, should Santana get a manager now? Well, Quinn’s kind of like her manager who keeps her in line and helps her make tough decisions, and it’s working out so far, so she pushes the question to the back of her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana spots Brittany a few feet away, laughing wildly at something Mike’s said. She punches his arm playfully and the smile that follows is so brilliant Santana thinks the blonde might actually kill her with the way she twists her lips to hide a smile of her own. Mike is then reaching out in attempts to tickle her and Brittany’s laugh is so happy and loud that Santana hears it from where she’s sitting. Brittany attempts to wriggle away from him, but Mike wraps an arm around her neck and pulls her face into his chest and Brittany is dissolved into a fit of giggles before she wraps her arms around him in a hug and he rests his head on top of hers. Santana feels a slight pang in her chest, not that it should matter, because it’s kind of really fucking cute and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany</span>
  </em>
  <span> is really fucking cute and of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> she has a boyfriend who also happens to be a really good dancer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s definitely convinced Mike is her boyfriend now, with how easily they move around each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you’re not gonna go over and say hi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s question snaps Santana out of the little trance she’s been pulled in, and she turns and quirks an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn shrugs, feigning innocence as she replies, “You guys are like, friends, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes as she sinks back into her seat and crosses her arms. She knows exactly what Quinn’s trying to do, and she won’t let herself look like an idiot </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span> before they’ve even gotten to their first show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, we’ve barely spoken to each other and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> when I have, I’ve looked like a complete idiot,” she grumbles. “That hardly counts as being friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you keep staring at her like an idiot so that’s not helping your case either,” Quinn provides with a slight smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I’m not,” Santana snaps, glaring at her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, your whole gay pining thing is obvious,” Quinn snorts fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satana’s mouth drops open at her comment before she’s snapping it back up and narrowing her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> gay pining,” she hisses. “I don’t have a stupid crush on Brittany and she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> taken, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn lets out a sigh, leaning back in her own seat. “Okay, if you say so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re annoying,” Santana grumbles, turning her attention back out to the dancers crowded around the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re stuck with me for three months,” the blonde reminds her with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Brittany’s eyes meet hers a few moments later and she waves with a bright smile, Santana feels all her irritation fade away, smiling back and giving a wave of her own. They both miss Quinn looking on with a knowing smile and a shake of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They board the flight not too long after that. It’s smaller than most planes, one that Mercedes’ team was able to book for just their tour. Santana and Quinn’s seats are next to each other as expected. Well, they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to sit together, but that’s before Quinn realizes who’s right behind them as they board. It’s before Quinn comes up with a plan on the spot that Santana catches up to quickly, but not fast enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is busy placing both her and Quinn’s bags above them to notice what’s going on, to realize Quinn is literally having a conversation with the person behind them. Damn Quinn for having a heavy carry on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...both terrified of sitting next to the window. One time, we were going through some pretty bad turbulence and made the mistake of cracking the window open. We were so scared we cried and immediately shut the window again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s is quickly trying to shove Quinn’s bag all the way in so she can figure out why her best friend’s talking nonsense - well, kind of. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the one that’s terrified of sitting next to the window. And the story Quinn told was partially true - Quinn wanted to see what was going on outside one time and opened the window. Hardly a second later, Santana was reaching over her and slamming it shut, tears running down her face as she gripped Quinn’s other hand tightly and had a panic attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s giving one last hard shove to Quinn’s bag when she hears, “Oh, that’s not good. I can switch with you if you’d like. I have an aisle seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana recognizes that voice, even if she’s only known it for a few days, and she’s almost stumbling back from the overhead cabinet to find Brittany giving Quinn a reassuring smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening?” Santana asks mainly Quinn, but she eyes both of them curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quinn was telling me how much you both hate sitting in the window seat,” Brittany informs her with a small smile. “I offered to switch with her since I have an aisle seat. That way neither of you guys have to deal with being by the window.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes narrow at Quinn subtly, and if you didn’t know Quinn you wouldn’t think anything of the sweet smile she’s giving, but Santana sees the way her best friend’s eyes are lit up with mischief. Santana kind of wants to kill her, but Quinn is quickly turning back to Brittany with a grateful smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you’re sure,” Quinn insists. “I don’t want to take you away from your seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany waves a hand at her, already stepping into the space between Quinn and Santana to claim the window seat as she responds, “No seriously, it’s no big deal. Being scared sucks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gapes at Brittany, who is already putting on her seatbelt, before she gives Quinn an incredulous look. Quinn only looks at Brittany in surprise for a second before she’s returning Santana’s look with a smirk and a mouthed </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re welcome.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Santana rolls her eyes and tries her best to glare, but she knows her cheeks are starting to flush and she can only hope Brittany doesn’t notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My seat’s three rows back,” Brittany provides when she clicks her seatbelt in place. “Mike’s back there already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn gives her another smile and nods. “Thanks, Brittany. I owe you one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Brittany insists with a shrug and a smile of her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See ya,” Quinn sing-songs to Santana as she quickly moves away to look for her new seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana resists the urge to yank her best friend back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> seats and scold her for being annoying and trying to play matchmaker when Brittany is so very clearly taken and Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a crush on her. The urge, however, is quickly squandered when she turns back to find Brittany smiling up at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I won’t open the window. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana slides into the seat next to her without another word, letting her hair fall around her face as she buckles her seatbelt so Brittany can’t see the way her cheeks flush. Being this close to her for the first time, Santana notes that Brittany smells like jasmine and coconut and maybe a little bit of vanilla. It makes Santana kind of dizzy, being this close and breathing in Brittany’s scent, but she manages to pull herself together enough to act like a normal person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to switch,” Santana tells her. “Quinn was being a little dramatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shrugs again, her smile never leaving her face. “I don’t mind at all. I’d rather take the window seat than have you or Quinn freak out or like, fight over the aisle seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana quirks an eyebrow. “But what about Mike? Isn’t your boyfriend going to be confused on why Quinn’s sitting with him instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Brittany gives her a funny look. “Boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana blinks, unsure where this conversation is headed. She’s not sure why Brittany looks so confused, like Santana’s currently speaking another language. She tries not to let herself get distracted by how adorable it is when Brittany’s eyebrows knit together and her nose scrunches up just a little, focusing on answering the question instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike,” Santana repeats. “He’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dots seem to connect in Brittany’s head because understanding flashes in her features before she’s laughing, loud and full and carefree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike’s not my boyfriend,” Brittany explains, an amused grin on her face. “He’s like my best bro and we live together, that’s all. Super close, but nah. He has a girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana stares at her blankly, processing the information. She feels her cheeks heating up already, and she hates herself for not even taking a full minute before looking like an idiot in front of Brittany. Panic rises in her chest as she tries to stutter out an apology or explanation or maybe even both at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um. I just thought - you two are - I didn’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way,” Brittany chuckles, shaking her head. “He’s like my annoying brother. A total pain in my ass, but he’s always looking out for me. Nothing romantic there at all. That’s gross, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s nose scrunches up in that impossibly adorable way again and Santana is simultaneously trying not to melt from the sight while also feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Santana says dumbly, mainly because she’s not quite sure what else to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany looks at her for a moment, something unrecognizable in her eyes as she smiles a little and says, “It’s cute when you get all flustered like that, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s cheeks grow impossibly warmer and she can’t quite meet Brittany’s eyes when she replies, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s lips are turned into a teasing smile and her eyes are light and playful and as much as Santana wants to glare at her, she can’t because everything about her in this moment has Santana fighting a smile. She looks at Santana like she can see right through her, and though it should terrify her, Santana’s nothing but intrigued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel like you have a badass, tough reputation so don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wink Brittany gives her almost takes Santana out right then and there - and she wonders how she’s even supposed to survive this flight sitting next to her, let alone a whole tour - but she manages to keep her cool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks so much,” she deadpans with a roll of her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany beams at her, a little giggle escaping her lips, and Santana can’t hide her smile this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pilot announces they’re about to take off a moment later, and Santana’s body immediately tenses. For the most part, flying isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> terrible if she’s being honest. Only when they hit turbulence does she ever start to panic, but takeoffs and landings always make her anxious. Brittany seems to notice right away, looking a little worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a fan of takeoffs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or landings,” Santana breathes out, focusing on Brittany so she doesn’t think about the fact this giant metal thing is about to launch itself off the ground and into the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany offers a small smile. “Kind of crazy when you think about it, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, which is why I try not to think about it at all, especially when it’s about to happen,” Santana explains with a nervous chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tries to smile, but it probably comes off more as a grimace. The plane starts moving then, and she grips the armrest between them tightly, swallowing the lump in her throat. Brittany’s eyes flash with concern, and before Santana knows it, Brittany’s hand is resting on top of hers, thumb rubbing gently across the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m right here with you,” Brittany promises in a quiet voice. “We’ll be smooth sailing before you know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in Santana eases just a little bit, at how kind and understanding and caring Brittany is for someone she barely knows. The blonde seems to take it all in stride, seemingly soothing the panic before it even fully arrives. She’s incredibly grateful in the moment, focusing on the way Brittany’s thumb running along the back of her hand is actually calming her down and Brittany doesn’t look at her like she’s a nuisance or a freak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she nods, sounding breathless and small and completely unlike herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gives her hand a squeeze and starts talking about how she used to have a cat growing up named Lord Tubbington. She tells Santana all these ridiculous things like how he’s in a gang or he’s a smoker or he joined the KKKK - Klu Klux Klan for Kats, apparently - and how she put him on Atkins because he’s ridiculously fat, but it didn’t work. Santana finds herself smiling, more relaxed than she can ever remember being for a takeoff. When she laughs particularly loud at Brittany mentioning that her cat tried to run a mafia in her garage, she misses the way Quinn’s practically falling out to her chair, shocked that her best friend isn’t in full freakout mode.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana asks questions about Lord Tubbington, partially as a joke to see how ridiculous the stories can get, and Brittany answers with a serious look on her face every time, and Santana is so caught up in Brittany and how pretty she is and how cute she is talking about her obese cat, that it’s almost half an hour later when they both realize that they’re well into the air now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s hand still rests on top of hers, so Santana slowly pulls hers back into her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See? We made it,” Brittany smiles at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smiles back, feeling a little bit shy because the last thing she wanted was for the hot dancer to witness an almost-panic attack, but she’s kind of glad Brittany was so good at talking her down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she murmurs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime,” Brittany replies, sounding like she actually means it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, maybe Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a tiny crush on Brittany. So what.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brittany finds herself falling a little bit more for Santana on their flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s kind of glad Quinn mentioned them both being scared of the window - not that she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> they’re scared of that, it’s just - well, now she gets to spend a little over five hours sitting next to Santana and it’s kind of like the best flight ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Santana isn’t being absolutely adorable and blushing up a storm, she is witty and smart and narrowing her eyes like there’s an inside joke there, just for the two of them. Brittany learns that Santana is getting a business degree in entertainment at NYU, and she’s pretty sure Santana’s like the smartest person she knows. Not like, book smart - though, she’s sure Santana’s smart in that department, too - but just street smart and like, general smart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you can’t do?” Brittany jokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes. “Oh, stop. I’m not even doing much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gapes. “You’re smart, you can sing </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can dance, too? Save some for the rest of us lowly people, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Santana scoffs, shaking her head. “I can’t dance half as well as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany leans forward like she has a secret as she whispers, “I think you might be better than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs loudly, pushing gently at Brittany’s shoulder. “You’re full of shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany feels warm all over at the sound of Santana’s laugh, and more so at the playfulness that’s settled easily between them. She wears a cheeky grin, taking in the way Santana’s eyes shine and her cheeks are just a little flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The typical need to take a nap on a flight escapes Brittany for the entire trip. She is so caught up in everything about Santana Lopez from the way she talks to the way her dimples appear if Brittany makes her smile wide enough. It’s almost embarrassing, really, how Brittany hangs on to every word the singer says, no matter how mundane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when the captain announces their descent, Brittany immediately recognizes the way Santana’s eyes widen just a little, giving way to panic. She’s quick to grab Santana’s hand, which is now gripping the armrest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me how you and Mercedes became friends?” Brittany requests, a soft smile playing her lips as she slips her fingers through the spaces between Santana’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s tension eases just a little at the question and she takes a shaky breath before she’s nodding, a grimace playing her lips for only a moment. There’s a hint of appreciativeness in her eyes behind the panic and Brittany tries not to smile wilder when she notices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were in glee club together in high school,” Santana explains with an eye roll. “Quinn forced me to join because her boyfriend at the time was in it. Honestly, we hated each other in the beginning…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany listens attentively as Santana recounts her and Mercedes’ friendship timeline. What she pays more attention to, though, is the way Santana’s body relaxes as she dives down memory lane. She notices the way Santana lights up at a particular memory and scoffs at an old argument. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“You put weird stuff in her food? Santana, that’s mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please, it’s not like she died or anything.”)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany notices how, even after they’ve touched the ground, Santana is still talking and her hand still fits comfortably in Brittany’s on the arm rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Brittany’s favorite parts of plane rides growing up was looking out the window to see them make it back down to the ground. She thinks looking at Santana’s bright and beautiful smile might be better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Brittany grins as their laughter dies down from another memory Santana has shared. “We are officially in Los Angeles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana blinks, and while she’s looking around to see that everyone’s unbuckling and stretching, Brittany regretfully pulls her hand away and misses the lack of contact immediately. There’s genuine surprise and gratitude on the brunette’s face when she turns back to Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...thanks,” Santana stutters with admiration in her eyes. “I don’t know how you did it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shrugs, only a little bashful. “Sometimes all you need is to do is talk about happy things to distract yourself for a little while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Santana smiles at her in response makes Brittany feel light and feathery and like maybe Santana thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the smartest person she’s ever met. Brittany wishes she could bottle this feeling up to save for later because she never wants to forget the look on Santana’s face, or the way she can’t stop smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can’t do you?” Santana teases as they both stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany can’t help but grin at Santana’s words. Santana’s narrowing her eyes again as she smiles - with dimples, Brittany notes - and it’s the look that tells Brittany this banter between them is like their little secret. It fills Brittany with indescribable giddiness. They are all giggles and knowing glances until they are in the airport terminal and Mike and Quinn have caught up with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is quickly being whisked off to the restroom by Quinn, who apparently refuses to go on planes, and Santana is giving Brittany one last smile over her shoulder before she disappears to follow her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany isn’t sure how, but she knows exactly what Santana is trying to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, do we get to count that as a first date? If so, it’s okay you ditched me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike’s voice startles her. Brittany whips her head around to find a sly smile on his face. She shakes her head in response, pushing at his shoulder even though she knows the heat is spreading across her cheeks already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only sat there because Quinn and Santana are both scared of the window seat,” she grumbles in explanation as they follow the crowd of fellow dancers and crew towards baggage claim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike nods, but the biting grin on his face implies he knows something she doesn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, the window,” he says slowly, and Brittany quirks an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah weirdo, the window,” Brittany repeats, frowning. “Santana, like, definitely almost had a panic attack even sitting by the aisle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you saved her like the lady knight in shining armor you are, didn’t you?” Mike winks dramatically, and his tone makes Brittany’s cheeks even redder. “Using your Pierce charm and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany rolls her eyes to avoid looking at him, because she knows if she does, she won’t be able to hide her embarrassment. She thinks of the way Santana’s hand felt in hers, and it makes her face feel insanely warmer anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t like that,” she mumbles, ducking her head. “I just distracted her, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Quinn said she’s never seen Santana calmer than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, we didn’t really have any turbulence,” Brittany reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike shakes his head. “No, like takeoff and landing. She was kind of worried when we took off, but she heard Santana laugh and was leaning into the aisle to try to see her. She said Santana’s usually always anxious and hardly speaks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany blinks, trying to take in the information. Of course, Santana had told her she didn’t like takeoffs and landings, but the way Brittany’s distractions worked made it look seem like it was easy for her to get her mind off of it, even for just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she doesn’t get to push further as they arrive at baggage claim and are thrown into the sea of other people trying to find their own suitcases. Still, even after all bags have been claimed and they’re boarding the private bus to the hotel by the venue, all Brittany can think of is the way Santana smiled at her after they landed.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Santana gapes when they walk into the restaurant Mercedes’ team reserved for dinner the night before their first show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn lets out an impressed whistle, taking in their surroundings. “This place is really nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think Wheezy’s been secretly holding out on us all these years?” Santana teases with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah right,” Quinn chuckles with a shake of her head, nudging Santana’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just thought I’d do something special for our first night before the tour starts. Some of us have a heart, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes is falling into step with them, rolling her eyes fondly at Santana as they follow the host to the party room in the back, reserved for the entire staff and crew of the tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well then have I mentioned my birthday’s coming up?” Santana questions as she bats her eyelashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana,” Mercedes starts by giving her some side eye. “Your birthday is months from now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks at her. “Just thought I’d put in my request early. You know how much I like bling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn rolls her eyes. “We know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t with y’all,” Mercedes snorts with a shake of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they enter the room, Mercedes is quick to claim the head of the table and Santana and Quinn are quickly sliding into the two chairs on her left. They watch as everyone else fills in, an excited chatter amongst the group. The energy is palpable to Santana now, the way everyone knows they’re on the brink of opening night. It’s an excited chatter that fills the room, everyone much more lively and awake after a few hours of rest at the hotel. There are so many names and faces that Santana is still trying to learn, but she can’t help it if her eyes are searching for one blonde in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being so obvious,” Quinn murmurs in her ear, the tease evident in her voice. “I know you’re looking for your girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s head whips to face her. “She’s not my-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike, Brittany! Hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both their heads turn to find Mercedes waving Mike and Brittany over as they enter the room. Santana only realizes then that the two spots across from them are still empty, no one else seemingly wanting to take them for whatever reason. The two dancers wave at her and begin to make their way over to - oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god Mercedes,” Santana hisses, slightly panicked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes turns to her, a seemingly innocent smile on her lips. “What? I’m just inviting our good friends Mike and Brittany over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I barely even know them,” Santana points out, but then she notices the way Mercedes and Quinn share a glance and she turns to scowl at her best friend. “You told her about the flight, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike and I really bonded for five hours,” Quinn insists with a mischievous smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana glares at both of them. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own friends. I don’t need either of you involved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, sure you don’t,” Mercedes hums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mercedes, hey!” Mike greets patting a hand on the singer’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey guys,” Mercedes smiles at both of them, motioning over to the two empty seats. “Why don’t y’all sit up here with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany looks to the left of Mercedes to meet Santana’s gaze, and she smiles at her, eyes bright and blue and so inviting. Santana smiles back immediately, and Quinn just hides her smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, do we get special treatment now?” Mike jokes, holding out the seat for Brittany - which happens to be right across from Santana - before he slides into the one next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sitting with these two?” Mercedes asks, nodding to Santana and Quinn. “You’re more subject to bullying than anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes. “It’s called tough love, Wheezy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn scoffs. “I’m not a bully!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arguable,” Santana snorts, earning a look from Quinn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany watches them with an amused smile before she asks, “Are they like this all the time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes sighs dramatically. “You should’ve seen them in high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of high school, Brittany lights up. “Tell me more. I mean, Santana told me a little on our flight, but I’d love to hear your version of events.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes turns to look at Santana at the mention, eyebrow quirking up suspiciously as she says, “Oh did she now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gapes at the blonde across from her. “Brittany! Way to rat me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany giggles impossibly soft, her eyes shining and her face just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> bashful. Santana just about melts at the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she murmurs in a tone that tells Santana she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry at all, but Santana can’t even be mad about it, not when she’s got all of Brittany’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana makes a show of rolling her eyes, but she ends up smiling at Brittany in response anyway, a way to say she’s not actually upset. Brittany grins at her, all sorts of adorable and Santana is suddenly convinced she won’t make it through dinner if Brittany keeps shooting smiles at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(They both miss the look Quinn and Mike share, all smirks and raised eyebrows and the need to just prove how right they are.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner is easy and warm and familiar. Mercedes, Quinn and Santana take turns recounting their memories from high school, each of them arguing with one way it went or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> light the piano on fire, Quinn did!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I did was throw the cigarette, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> genius idea with Coach Sylvester!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s nice going down the trip down memory lane with her two friends, sharing their lives with Mike and Brittany - who, in return, exchange stories of their own from high school, seeing as they go that far back as well - but the best thing of all is the way Santana counts Brittany’s smiles, how she feels a little bit of a thrill when Brittany laughs or when she sides with Santana on a particular argument. Santana recognizes the warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. She’s pretty sure she’s screwed at this point, but with Brittany’s eyes on her for most of the night, she can’t seem to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes stands towards the end of the meal, tapping her fork against her glass to grab everyone’s attention. Once the chatter has settled down, she begins to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey y’all! I just wanted to take the time to say I’m so glad all of y’all could come with me on tour, and I’m so blessed that this tour is a reality. We’ve worked so hard these past few months and it all starts tomorrow. There’s no one else I’d rather do this with for the next three months,” she says, looking around the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana watches her, a smile on her face as she sips her own wine. Mercedes has never quite been a leader, not in glee club and not in the years Santana’s known her, but she’s living in her moment right now, and for all the fights they have and bickering they do, she’s so proud of her friend. Contrary to what other people might think, Mercedes has fought and worked so hard to be here, and really, Santana admires her a lot for doing what she’s done. It still shocks her that Mercedes asked </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be on her album all those months ago. It’s still unreal that Mercedes wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana</span>
  </em>
  <span> as her opener, not some other musician who probably lives in LA and has like, actually taken this music thing seriously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But one thing she’s always understood is that there’s something about their partnership that always just clicks. Santana realized it quickly in high school, when she figured out seeing Mercedes as her competition wasn’t nearly as effective as seeing her as an equal when it came to vying for a number in show choir competitions. Something special happens when they sing together, and a mutual respect after their first duet was established. She knows Mercedes would never bullshit her. She’d never give Santana an opportunity like this one unless she truly thought she deserved it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...and a big thank you to Santana, who agreed to come on this show even though she’s also busy being a kick ass NYU student. You’re my homegirl and I wouldn’t want to share this experience with anyone else. You’re too talented to not share that with the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana doesn’t offer a usual smart comment or roll of her eyes or insist Mercedes is being a big sap. No, instead she raises her glass towards her friend, a big smile on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Top bitches then and now,” she winks, earning a number of chuckles from the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes smiles knowingly at her before she holds her glass up higher and says, “Here’s to this tour, let’s make it the best!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone raises their glasses and lets out a loud cheer before they’re all clinking glasses. When Santana meets Brittany’s eyes across from her, there is something undeniable in her expression. Santana doesn’t quite understand it, not yet, but it kind of feels like Brittany thinks Santana can do anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Santana genuinely feel like she can do this, that she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do this.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first day of a show or a tour has always kind of felt like Christmas morning to Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the start of something new and special, something not everyone else gets to say they’ve experienced. This one feels even more special though, and Brittany can’t tell if it’s because of how rehearsals went or because of a particular brunette who basically has Brittany following her every move when she’s on stage, but either way, it feels like Christmas morning times two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana, however, does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> seem to be a morning person in the slightest. When Brittany runs into her in the hallway that morning, she looks like she’s stumbling through her sleep. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of her head and she’s dressed in sweatpants and a cropped t-shirt that reveals her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany thinks she looks adorable...and kind of hot. But Santana also looks pretty grumpy, glaring at Quinn with barely open eyes as the blonde drags her down the hall, so Brittany calls out a soft good morning to both of them as they pass before entering her room again to see what the hell is taking Mike so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike, at least, seems to share her excitement, and they manage to carry this energy everywhere they go that morning. From their morning coffee and bagels run to dancers meetings to just wandering around the hotel, it’s like they can’t stop moving. She’s so glad Mike gets it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready to be a big star tonight?” Mike asks with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re sitting at a bakery a few blocks away from the hotel with Tina, who flew across the country to be here for the start of the tour. There’s only a couple of hours left before they board a bus and make their way down to the venue for one last run through, but Brittany enjoys the stillness leading up to the big show. She also enjoys the fact that her tea was paid for by one Tina Cohen-Chang as a good luck treat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany snorts. “Mike, we’re dancers on Mercedes’ tour. She’s obviously the star.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike rolls her eyes, but he’s looking at Brittany, eyes twinkling with something she can’t quite name as he replies, “You’re in almost every number. There’s no way eyes aren’t going to be on you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the first time Brittany’s considered this. Of course, she was noticed when she went on tour with Beyonce, but that’s because there weren’t that many backup dancers for the number she was in to begin with. Here on tour with Mercedes, there’s a ton of them, and sure, Brittany kind of has a bigger role than everyone else, but she’s not flat out being given like, a dance solo or anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, deep down she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mike has a point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, I just need to make sure I don’t fall on my face,” Brittany decides, not quite meeting Mike or Tina’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a star, Britt,” Tina sighs happily. “I can’t wait to watch you both kill it tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m starting to think you came here to see Brittany and not me,” Mike pouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, I did. I guess you’ll never know,” Tina answers with a devious smile, giving Brittany an overexaggerated wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany and Tina burst out into laughter not even a moment later, leaving Mike’s pout to only deepen at their response. Tina soothes it over as their laughter dies down, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you afraid I’m stealing your girl, Chang?” Brittany smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike, who is seemingly won over by Tina’s kiss to his cheek, shakes his head smugly. “You’re too busy making heart eyes at Santana to even think about stealing Tina.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina’s face brightens at the comment, looking equally impressed with Mike’s retort and giddy at the prospect of Brittany’s alleged love life. Brittany, on the other hand, shakes her head but knows there is a light flush spread across her cheeks that she couldn’t stop if she tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, is Brittany getting a girlfriend soon?” Tina asks playfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re friends,” Brittany insists, then after a second adds, “I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike turns to Tina and shares, “Brittany switched seats with Santana’s best friend on our flight to sit next to Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, Brittany!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany kicks Mike under the table, earning an overdramatic yelp from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what happened, stop spreading rumors,” she scolds him before looking at Tina. “Quinn and Santana hate window seats and are like, kind of terrified of turbulence so I offered to switch because Quinn had a window seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And she totally calmed Santana down in what Quinn definitely was sure to be a panic attack during landing and takeoff,” Mike adds. “Quinn said she’s never seen her so relaxed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany ducks her head at that part because she’s still so sure that Mike and maybe even Quinn are exaggerating. Tina, though, soaks it all up and looks at Brittany with wide, adoring eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, Britt! This is so cute! I’m so invested!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany snorts. “There’s nothing to be invested about. We’re just like, kind of friends now, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends who flirt with each other at the dinner table,” Mike corrects teasingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We weren’t - </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Brittany groans, throwing her face into her hands in defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears Mike’s quiet chuckle and only furthers her position, face pressing into the palms of her hands. Her face is probably so red now, and she hates how Santana Lopez manages to fluster her even when she’s not around - though, really, this is Mike’s fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They totally </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> flirting last night. At least, it’s not like Brittany was actively trying to flirt. It’s not her fault that Santana has words slipping off her tongue easily, just to see that dimpled-smile or hear that angelic laugh. On Santana’s end, Brittany’s still not sure. Santana is quick and witty and playful and everything she does is somehow sexy and kind of cute at the same time and - god, Brittany’s an absolute mess internally when it comes to her, isn’t she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you, Mike,” Brittany mumbles through her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you too, Britt,” he hums happily to the sound of Tina’s soft giggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany can’t wait for show time so Mike has something else to focus on other than making Brittany squirm.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the first day of tour, and like most things have been the past two weeks, it just doesn’t feel real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> today’s the day, that later tonight she’ll be walking onto a stage and singing in front of people who paid to be there. It’s not like singing in the McKinley auditorium or like sectionals or regionals or even nationals. It’s something else entirely, something that Santana won’t be able to quite understand until she’s there tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits with Mercedes at a cafe around the block from their hotel, both of them nursing teas to keep their throats warm - Mercedes had scolded Santana when she went to order a cold brew - and sitting by the window to watch the busy street come and go with people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready for tonight?” Mercedes asks, clearly holding back her excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was born ready,” Santana deadpans, that air of confidence she’s always used as a safety keeping her grounded at the moment. “Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes looks like she can see right through her act - which, if anyone outside of Quinn can, it would be her - but she looks down at the cup in her hands and gives a bashful smile instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I’ve worked so hard for this especially over the past year,” Mercedes starts. “But I still feel like someone has to pinch me, you know? This is happening for us, for real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods in immediate understanding, a small smile creeping on her face. Quinn’s her best friend, but this is something she and Mercedes share alone, something that Quinn is only an outsider to. It’s comforting to know she isn’t alone, that despite the months and years Mercedes has built up to this, they’re feeling about the same as tonight looms closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was literally taking finals not even three weeks ago,” Santana laughs, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. “Now I’m in Los Angeles opening your tour, what is this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes softens, eyes gentle as they land on Santana. “You deserve this, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a curious look, but deep down, she knows it’s been a constant battle inside of her. To everyone else, it always looked like Santana had the confidence to get her through anything. Her head always held high, shoulders back and a determined look on her face - a product of being raised by a barely-there doctor father and a mother who worked endlessly to make sure Santana was going to be okay no matter what. But those close enough - those like Quinn and Mercedes and often the rest of her high school glee club - knew better. They knew the insecurities Santana hid deep down, they knew of the fears that plagued her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had gotten better over the years, standing tall and getting over her fears one by one, whether she wanted to or not, but Santana is only human, and humans who feel like they’ve been plucked out of a normal, boring life and into what is essentially a path to stardom have their doubts, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So hearing this from Mercedes, someone who has always told it like it is, eases something deep inside Santana, bringing her a newfound calm as she sips her tea quietly in lieu of a response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were always the two most talented bitches in Lima,” Mercedes adds with a playful grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks over her cup as she responds, “That town couldn’t handle us at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes snorts. “Mr. Schuester could barely handle us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her comment earns loud laughter from Santana, who for the first time all day, feels the excited buzz without the nerves churning in her stomach. She raises her half-filled cup towards her friend across the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To being the best pieces of action that have ever come out of Lima,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes cheerfully toasts to that as she looks at Santana, honest and excited, when she says, “We’re going to light up that stage tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can’t hide her grin even if she tries.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything picks up by tenfold when they finally make their way to the venue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana sees her name on the marquee, right under Mercedes’ and she feels like she can’t breathe. It feels like her dreams are all slowly coming true, and Quinn is right there next to her, just as starry-eyed and breathless as she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so cool,” Quinn breathes out, eyes stuck on her friends’ names on the sign.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks. “I’m not letting you ever forget you said that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It breaks Quinn out of her spell, rolling her eyes and giving Santana a scoff as she replies, “You get like two free passes this summer because you’re like, literally going on tour as a singer. You know that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are the most annoying best friend,” Santana informs her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we please just enjoy one moment with you two bickering?” Mercedes asks, turning in her seat in front of them to give them both a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they all giggle a moment later, because they are here in Los Angeles with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mercedes Jones</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana Lopez</span>
  </em>
  <span> spelled out on a marquee and it all just feels so surreal. Quinn and Mercedes’ manager force the two of them to take a photo beneath their names, and though Santana rolls her eyes and pretends she thinks it’s totally lame, she knows Quinn can see right through her by the way she smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Mercedes’ manager is leading them to their own dressing rooms - as in, Santana gets her </span>
  <em>
    <span>own dressing room?</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and it feels like the first time she visited New York in high school, eyes wide in awe of just about everything happening around her. She’s so caught up in it all that she hardly notices when Brittany falls into step with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty unreal, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana turns, pleasantly surprised to find Brittany at her side. She lets out a shaky breath and nods, eyes wide and full of awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s a lot to take in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better get used to it now,” Brittany hums, leaning in just a little closer with a bright smile. “Because you’ll be doing this a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana quirks an eyebrow. “Walking around venues?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany rolls her eyes at the dry humor, but her smile only widens and her eyes shine with something that makes Santana believe her next words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Going on tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer leaves Santana a little breathless if she’s being honest. The way Brittany is looking at her - so sure of her words and like this is about to be Santana’s new normal - isn’t helping either. It’s almost like she’s feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the moment, all her emotions beginning to swirl together that she can’t tell one from another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s known Brittany for less than a week and it stuns Santana that Brittany can make her feel like this, like everything she’s wished for is on the brink of coming true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana does recover, though, pulling a little smirk at her lips as she shoots back, “Think you’ll come on tour with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles in her ridiculously charming way when she replies, “If you need me, I’m so there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile breaks through Santana’s smirk, and the promise they’re laying down here, one that is completely hypothetical and nowhere even close to a reality, has Santana feeling light and hopeful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany, come on, we need you warming up with the others soon. Santana, we need you in soundcheck in thirty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both turn their heads to find one of the stage managers holding a clipboard in his hand and frantically texting with his other hand as he looks at them expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Brittany promises with a nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, looking a little stressed as he mutters something under his breath as soon as his phone chimes in response. He practically speedwalks away, probably off to deal with one problem or another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you behind the curtain,” Brittany promises with an easy smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods, the nerves beginning to kick in again at the realization that </span>
  <em>
    <span>show time</span>
  </em>
  <span> is almost here. She puts on a smile, “Yeah, see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany bounds down the hallway and around the corner as Santana finds her dressing room, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana Lopez</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the door. Her chest fills with something she can only describe as fuzzy before she enters. It’s not huge, but it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the night, wardrobe on a rack and a vanity with makeup all splayed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is literally so cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana turns to locate the voice, finding Quinn sprawled out on the couch in the room and her phone in her hand. She rolls her eyes, walking in as she closes the door and drops her things on the floor by the vanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, make yourself at home in </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>dressing room,” she scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn sits up, fixing a quirked eyebrow at her best friend. “Hey, I would’ve waited, but you were too busy flirting with Brittany in the hallway. I didn’t want to interrupt the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We weren’t having a-” Santana starts, but as soon as she meets Quinn’s challenging gaze she lets out a grumble. “It was nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure it wasn’t,” Quinn singsongs, sitting up and leaning over the back of the couch to watch as Santana organizes her belongings. “You ask all the dancers to come on tour with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana narrows her eyes. “Eavesdropping now, are we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hopes her cheeks don’t flush because she knows Quinn’s got her in a corner on this one. It’s stupid, Santana thinks, how she says things without thinking in front of pretty dancers with bright blue eyes and the kindest smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s cute,” Quinn admits with a shrug. “Brittany seems nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Santana grumbles, though she secretly beams with Quinn’s satisfaction on the inside. “Let’s go see how much bigger Mercedes’ dressing room is before soundcheck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that Santana needs Quinn’s approval for anything, not at all, but ever since their freshman year of college, Quinn’s been extra wary of anyone Santana even considers a love interest. Quinn was there to pick up all of Santana’s pieces the last time she was heartbroken, so Santana gets it. She’s the same way with the blonde, after Finn and Puck and almost every stupid boy that even came close after that. So, yeah, to know Quinn doesn’t completely have her guard up when it comes to Brittany is a relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t say it, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Santana doesn’t need to, anyway; Quinn gives her arm a soft squeeze that says what neither of them need to.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything from soundcheck on feels like a fever dream Santana doesn’t want to wake up from. It all happens so quickly that the feeling can’t even properly sink in. Standing on stage with Mercedes in the empty venue with crew members milling about and the tech guys making sure everything sounds good. Quinn stands in an empty space a few rows back, singing and dancing along to whatever songs Mercedes and Santana decide to sing as everyone else sets up around them. The moment is light and easy and free, only Quinn in the audience as Mercedes and Santana play off of each other. Santana does her best to commit this to memory, just in case she doesn’t get another moment like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From there, Santana is being whisked back to her dressing room, two women she can’t remember the name of already in there. One is handing her the tour outfit they'd picked out together last week and the other setting up all her brushes and make up at the vanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana watches as Quinn hides a chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all, falling back on the couch and watching it all happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be jealous,” Santana teases her with a smirk as she heads over the divider set up for her to change behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m not,” Quinn laughs, eyes sparkling. “Don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When their eyes meet, Santana knows they’re both feeling the exact same at this moment - happy and breathless and a little in awe of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all still feels like a dream right up to the moment Santana is finally behind the curtain, dancers milling about with an excited and nervous energy that the singer herself feels in her bones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing here, hearing the crowd chattering on the other side, dressed up in something nicer than everything in her own closet combined, it finally hits her. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Santana is about to open a freaking tour for Mercedes and this is her life for the next three months. She doesn’t get nervous often, the last time she can remember is her junior year when she’d been given her first solo at a competition, but this is like ten times bigger. Santana knows she finds comfort on the stage - it’s just that none of this has decided to process in her head until now. She grips the microphone in her hands a little tighter, letting out a loud breath as she sorts through the nerves and anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany bounds over to her, nothing but excitement on her face. She looks flawless in her skin tight tour outfit and hair pulled back so it’s half up and her makeup done to perfection. Santana had somewhat forgotten about Brittany with the chaos of it all until this moment, and it takes her a moment to recover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods, but the breath she lets out is shaky. “Now or never, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But somehow, Brittany sees right through her faux confident smile and the way it doesn’t quite reach her eyes because she places a hand on Santana’s arm and looks her right in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to kill it,” she promises in a quiet voice, only heard between the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much like the hallway earlier, Brittany’s voice is sure and steady, no trace of doubt in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you so sure?” Santana asks, the question slipping out before she can stop herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like her to show her vulnerability, especially with someone she hardly knows like Brittany. But something about the way Brittany holds her arm and how she is so warm and inviting and honest makes it easy, Santana figures. It’s something about the way that Santana somehow just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany won’t judge her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile appears on Brittany’s face as she answers, “You were totally born to do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks at her in surprise, making Brittany’s smile only grow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve seen you in rehearsal, Santana.” Brittany reminds her, eyes sparkling. “I know so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something warm and familiar blossoms in Santana’s chest. She can’t pinpoint it now, not with the crowd and everyone running around at the last minute behind the scenes, but this feeling and Brittany’s gaze is enough to steady her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One minute people!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gives her one last squeeze before she lets go and says, “Break a leg. Not that you need it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs, taking in the way Brittany winks at her before she’s running off to her mark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show time,” someone on the crew says to her with a smile before he’s quickly running to the wings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods, letting out of a breath. There is nothing but excitement buzzing through her now, the crowd cheering as they realize they are moments away from the show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the slightest of moments, there is dead silence, and then the music starts playing and nothing else matters besides the words coming out of Santana’s mouth and the way she moves to the beat like she’s done so many times before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easy, falling into it all once she’s doing what she does best. The crowd takes to her quickly, and Santana feeds off of it, trying not to smile too hard the entire time. Santana spots Quinn in the front row and throws her a wink during the first song, and Quinn lets out a laugh that Santana can’t hear over the earphones and the music and the crowd. She catches sight of Brittany throughout the set as they move through choreography, and she can see the way Brittany lives for this, how she doesn’t miss a beat and she grins when the crowd gets particularly loud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana decides, here, in the middle of her set, that she wants to do this for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Los Angeles!” Santana shouts into her microphone by the end of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she turns around, Brittany is looking at her like she’s something extraordinary.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s something about opening nights that reminds Brittany all over again why she loves dance so much. She’s never been able to pinpoint the exact feeling or moment that does it, but she knows that by the end of every opening night for any project she’s in, she feels like she’s on top of the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s no different for Mercedes’ tour, and something about performing like this fills Brittany with such unexplainable joy. It’s almost a treat, really, the way she gets to take in all of Santana as she dances.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was right - Santana was born to do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost like the nerves were never there to begin with once she starts working the stage, singing her heart out and having the crowd fall in love with her. It makes Brittany’s chest expand and she has to remind herself to bite back her smile throughout Santana’s set, but she can’t help it - Santana’s gift is something magical.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s just lucky enough she gets to see it up close for three months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the chaos between Santana’s set and Mercedes’, Brittany runs over to her as soon as Santana walks off stage. Brittany’s out of breath and maybe a little sweaty, but she throws her arms around Santana and pulls her into a hug without even thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you!” she exclaims, laughing at the sound of Santana’s surprised yelp then soft laughter. “You were amazing out there!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The uncontrollable giggle that falls off of Santana’s lips is so sweet, her arms wrapping around Brittany’s shoulders in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Britt,” she hums happily, and Brittany flushes at the way the nickname rolls off of Santana’s tongue so easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She likes it, the sound of her name on Santana’s tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does it feel?” she asks, partly because she’s curious and the other part because she needs to focus on Santana’s first-ever show and not the fact she called her </span>
  <em>
    <span>Britt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It felt amazing,” Santana breathes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of her sounds like she’s dazed, which she probably is, but when she pulls away she’s all bright-eyed and filled with adrenaline - a look that Brittany understands completely. Santana’s beaming, practically glowing after her set and Brittany thinks it’s not at all fair how Santana still looks stunning after working the stage the way she did, after dancing and singing and giving her heart out there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany knows her smile is matching Santana’s now. How can it not when Santana’s smile is so infectious, the way she looks absolutely radiant after performing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it ever get old?” Santana asks, still a little breathless. “Feeling like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes light up as she leans in like she has a secret when she replies, “No, not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer seems to thrill Santana, who looks something like a child who was just told they were getting extra presents for Christmas this year. Brittany’s heart tugs at the view, hoping Santana never loses the way she shines under the spotlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, Santana!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They turn to find Quinn practically sprinting down the wing, most likely making her way back from the front row. Santana lets out a laugh of disbelief, like what she’s just done has finally hit her, before she and Quinn and throwing arms around each other and yelling excited nonsense. Brittany smiles at the scene, and how cute they are, before she’s disappearing to find Mike before they have to be back on stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t see Santana again until an hour after the show. Brittany is tired and she knows her body will be a little sore tomorrow, but she’s always had a second wind after shows that pushes her on. Tonight, they all congregate at a bar not too far from the hotel - it feels like the bar is so crowded and only filled with everyone from the tour, but Brittany loves it. Tina being here too, stuck by Mike’s side for most of it, makes Brittany so happy - but that could also be the few drinks she’s had talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Just kidding, she loves Tina.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany whips her head, finding a giggling pair of Santana and Quinn just a few feet away from her. She instantly smiles, taking in how rosy Santana’s cheeks are and how her smile seems a little bit lopsided, a possible tell that she’s drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s adorable. She’s like, super cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God <em>dammit,</em> Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey guys!” she greets with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were looking for you!” Santana tells her when they’re close enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in Brittany flutters at the thought of Santana looking for </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people. Sure, they’re kind of friends now, but it doesn’t mean Brittany’s like, entitled to spend time with Santana at all. Santana looks so relieved, though, in her adorably drunk way, because she was looking for Brittany and now the blonde is standing right in front of her. It takes all of Brittany's willpower - what little she has left, anyway, with the drinks she’d been having - not to just swoon at the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn nods enthusiastically, pulling Brittany out of her inner turmoil. “We were. We couldn’t find you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs at Quinn’s matter-of-fact tone. “I’m here now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, take a shot with us!” Santana says, reaching out and grabbing Brittany’s wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn spots Tina and Mike next to her, wrapped up in their own conversation, and points at them with a determined look. “Them, too! Shots!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina blinks, surprised at the fact she’s being called upon by the blonde. Mike’s eyes widen, nothing but amused as he lets Quinn drag both him and his girlfriend along to the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is my girlfriend by the way,” he calls out to Quinn and Santana when they get to the bar. “Tina, this is Santana, our opener and Quinn, her best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana is too busy trying to get the bartender’s attention and Brittany is too focused on the way Santana’s still holding onto her. She doesn’t even hear Quinn and Tina start a conversation when they learn they both attend Columbia because she’s too focused on making a point of </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> staring at Santana’s slender fingers wrapped around her wrist as she orders a round of shots. She’s too busy trying not to think about the way Santana’s skin feels against her own or how something about it is so comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tequila?” Brittany questions once Santana has successfully flagged down a bartender. “You don’t play around, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes are mischievous when she turns to Brittany with a smirk and shrugs, “I just know how to have a good time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany raises her eyebrows, intrigued, and it’s at this moment she’s sure Santana Lopez is going to kill her before this tour ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to show me your ways then,” she quips back, feeling particularly bold because Santana doesn’t look away and maybe Brittany’s had enough drinks to just outright flirt with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in Santana’s eyes light up at her words and her smirk only deepens when she says, “Hope you can keep up, Pierce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, is this tequila?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their little moment is broken by Quinn, who is reaching over the two of them and taking a whiff of the shots that neither Brittany or Santana had noticed were already sitting in front of them. Brittany feels like she’s just been snapped out of a trance, but Santana seems like she’s not bothered, winking at her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else would it be?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re insane,” Quinn laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes and gives Brittany a look. “Quinn’s more of a vodka girl, obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike gives her a grin of approval as Santana hands him two shots for him and Tina. “You sound like the good kind of trouble, Lopez.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives him a sly smirk before she’s grabbing the last two shots and handing one to Brittany. She turns her attention back to the blonde then, that same look of mischief painted all her features now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To tour,” she announces, raising her shot glass up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To tour!” everyone else echoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they all clink their glasses together and down their shots with varying degrees of ease, but Brittany knows it’s not the tequila that’s making her warm. It’s the fact that Santana’s eyes never leave her, that Santana looks at Brittany like she’s the best thing in this damn bar. Brittany smiles at her after the tequila goes down her throat, holding in the slight whine she wants to let out in response to the burn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s dance!” Mike announces before he and Tina excitedly make their way to where others have been dancing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only lets out a whoop of agreement before she’s placing her glass down, grabbing both Quinn and Brittany by the wrist as she follows Mike’s lead. Quinn meets Brittany’s gaze behind Santana, and they both giggle just a little. Quinn’s eyes are a little glazed but she looks happy and carefree. Brittany gives her a wide grin, feeling the heat of Santana on her wrist and the warmth pooling in her stomach from the tequila.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany dances with Santana and Quinn for the whole night, losing Mike and his girlfriend somewhere along the way. She doesn’t care, though, not when Quinn is smiling more than Brittany’s ever seen her smile in the last week and Santana is laughing and leaning against Brittany more often than not, smiling so big her eyes are nothing more than deep brown slits underneath her eyelashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany knows, somewhere in the back of her mind, that they are drunk and a lot of this is the alcohol taking over. She knows, deep down, that people - herself included - get flirtatious and touchy when they’re drunk. Santana is no exception.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows all of this, but for tonight, she lets herself take in all the looks and the touches and the smirks Santana throws her way. She lets herself enjoy the pretty girl on her arm and the way they seem to move in sync without even trying, how easily Santana fits into the spaces of Brittany’s body, how natural it feels to move together to the music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re like magic,” Brittany blurts out at one point when Quinn has disappeared to get them all waters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks at her with a new softness that Brittany hasn’t seen before, pausing in her movements just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” she ponders aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods fiercely, trying not to frown at Santana’s uncertainness. “You are,” she insists. “Everything you do...it’s like magic. You’re so...<em>you’re</em> magic, Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s so out of line, really, for Brittany to be getting all emotional about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>talented</span>
  </em>
  <span> and overall </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span> Santana is. They’re just two people on tour together having a good time, but Brittany feels something she’s never really felt before. It’s almost like everything about Santana makes her want to burst, like Santana is so other worldly that Brittany just has to let her know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana takes it in stride, lips turning up into a smile, one of those smiles that really show her dimples, and her cheeks are bunched up and her eyes are squinted, and Brittany thinks she’s the cutest person on the planet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy I get to be on this tour,” she admits quietly, like a secret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes are filled with appreciation and something else Brittany can’t quite pinpoint, but it makes her stomach flip nonetheless. Santana hasn’t looked at her like this before, and it makes the dancer a little dizzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes shine when she responds, “Me too.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana is maybe a little too hungover for her liking when she wakes up the next morning, but otherwise she kind of feels on top of the world. She uses those extra moments to lay in bed before Quinn is rustling around their hotel room to pack and get ready to head to the airport to let everything about last night wash over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s actually a singer on tour, and last night was living proof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her ears fill with the memory of echoes of last night’s crowd. Her heart pumps loudly against her ribcage at the thought of being on that stage again. But the memory Santana grasps onto the most aside from those is the way Brittany looked at her at the end of her set. Her chest fills with the same feeling she got last night when she met those expressive blue eyes, something Santana can’t name but thinks she knows well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hopes Brittany will keep looking at her like that at the next show, and maybe every one after that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is lost in the memories of performing and dancing the night away at the bar down the street until Quinn is rolling out of bed and smacking Santana fondly with a pillow, her allegedly friendly way of waking Santana up in the mornings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Quinn blinks, surprised when Santana grabs at the pillow. “You’re up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a tired smile. “Good morning to you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn raises an eyebrow at her sudden good mood. Santana ignores the look, sliding out of bed as she reaches over and haphazardly puts her hair up with the closest hair tie she can find.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re like this the morning after every show, I hope this tour never ends,” Quinn quips with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Santana deadpans with a roll of her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s smile widens, but then it turns into a smirk when she adds, “I mean, it’s true...unless, of course, you’re in a weirdly good mood because you spent most of last night with a certain dancer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana narrows her eyes at her best friend. She knows her cheeks are quick to flush at the comment, but she’s too tired to even try to hide it. Quinn’s smirk only deepens at the sight of the singer’s face, an eyebrow quirking up in an attempt to dare Santana to say otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are the world’s most annoying best friend,” Santana gripes with a cold glare that has no effect whatsoever on Quinn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not denying my accusation,” Quinn singsongs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana scoffs, but doesn’t give her an answer before she’s stomping into the bathroom and closing the door shut. She ignores Quinn’s laugh through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But by the time she’s showered and more awake, there’s a quiet smile on her face, and whether it’s because of everything that’s happened in the past twelve-ish hours or not, Quinn takes a happy Santana this early in the morning in stride as they pack their things together before meeting the rest of the crew in the lobby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, if every show is like her first one, Santana could get used to this tour life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It surprises her when they board their flight and Quinn’s seat is on the other side of the aisle instead of next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think Mercedes fucked it up?” Santana asks, furrowing her brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn shrugs. “Not sure. Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s too busy looking at their seat numbers to notice the smirk Quinn’s wearing or the way her best friend meets Mercedes’ eyes across the waiting area and holds back a laugh. So she’s completely thrown off when she boards and it’s none other than Brittany in the window seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky us,” Brittany teases when Santana looks at her with surprise. “Guess we’re sitting together again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can’t help the smile that tugs on her lip as she slides into the seat next to her. “Lucky us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to find Quinn sitting with Mike in the row next to her, giving her a deceivingly sweet smile. Mike smiles at Santana too, but his smile reminds her more of a happy puppy so he gets a pass. Quinn’s smile, on the other hand, is just downright smug. That bitch totally planned this with Mercedes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only gives her a pointed look before Brittany is taking all her attention again, telling Santana about her FaceTime call with her parents and how Lord Tubbington has found himself in yet another ponzi scheme.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs and listens intently, not minding at all that Brittany’s hand finds hers as they take off. She doesn’t even get nervous at all, hardly even realizing they’re leaving the ground because Brittany has every ounce of her attention, from the way she sounds incredibly concerned about her cat to how warm her hand is in Santana’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(She ignores Quinn’s stare once they’re in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana knows she’ll hear about all </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> later, anyway.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a nice flight?” Mercedes asks, the smugness in her voice evident when she finds Santana and Quinn after the flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a scoff. “You think you’re so slick, Wheezy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes only grins when she responds, “Don’t say I never did nothin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Santana grumbles with a roll of her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First taking Santana on tour and now this,” Quinn comments from Santana’s other side. “Damn, Mercedes might be beating me out for best friend of the year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes laughs loudly in response. Santana scowls. Quinn just quirks her lips up, satisfied that Santana has no quick response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe we talked you into coming,” Santana mutters, walking ahead of them towards baggage claim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love us!” Quinn calls after her in between her laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, maybe Santana does, just a little. Maybe a little more when she finds Brittany already at the baggage carousel, holding up Santana’s bag with a wide grin.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana falls into the rhythm of being on tour pretty easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes’ team has their days scheduled out enough so they aren’t absolutely killing their vocals or their bodies day in and day out, but there is still something inside Santana that counts down to every show, to every moment she gets to be on stage. She loves every aspect of it, from the crowds to the dancing to how she knows she’ll never get tired of that electric feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is sure, now more than ever, that she was born to do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She notices, at some shows, people are beginning to sing along to her songs. And sometimes, when Mercedes does a meet and greet that Santana and Quinn crash purely because they have nothing else to do, there are people who recognize her and immediately ask for a photo. She tries not to make a big deal out of it, even when Quinn’s eyes widen in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of Santana can’t quite believe it’s happening, this tour and people knowing who she is and telling her they like her voice and her music. But when she brings it up with Brittany when they take a trip down the street to the local coffee shop in their city for the day, she just smiles like she isn’t at all surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course they like you,” Brittany shrug, taking a bite of her pastry. “You’re so talented and awesome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the way Brittany says it, like she’s telling Santana what time it is or which city they’re in. It’s factual, not up for debate - she says it like it’s not something you </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> debate, that what she just said simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>is.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Santana still doesn’t understand it, the way Brittany is so sure of her despite the small amount of time they’ve known each other. But nothing about how Brittany looks at her says that she’s just being nice, that she’s just saying it for the sake of stroking Santana’s ego. No, she looks at Santana like she means it. She looks at Santana like she believes in her, like Santana is something special and she’s just along for the ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost too much, if Santana’s being honest, the way Brittany looks at her. She’s not sure anyone’s looked at her this way, not Quinn or Mercedes or maybe even her parents. It’s not that they don’t believe in her; it’s just - well, the way Brittany looks at her is </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way she can’t explain other than it makes her stomach do a stupid little flip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Britt,” Santana murmurs softly, ducking her head and going to sip her coffee to hide her inevitable blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve been doing this a lot lately - hanging out outside of rehearsals or flights or anything tour-related. Usually they’re accompanied by Mike or Quinn or both - or even the occasional Mercedes comes into the mix - but other times, like today, it’s just the two of them. Santana likes hanging out with Brittany, and she’s quickly realizing that this stupid crush is potentially turning into something bigger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On top of being an insanely talented dancer, Brittany is kind and funny and more understanding than anyone Santana’s ever met. She wears that lopsided smile and has an irresistible twinkle in her eye that pulls just about anyone in. Brittany makes Santana feel like every stupid little dream she’s ever had is valid, like wanting to be a successful star isn’t totally out of reach, like Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> born to be a star.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, naturally, Santana knows she’s totally screwed. Girls like Brittany are usually out of her league - they’re usually straight or taken or just plain not interested in her in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> way. Plus, Santana’s not stupid - Brittany’s a natural flirt. It comes with that damn charm and her bubbly personality, and Santana can’t really blame anyone for being completely entranced by the dancer, but she’s not an idiot. She knows better than to confuse friendliness and harmless flirtation with something real, even if sometimes it feels like it could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And anyway, Santana’s here to sing and hopefully start making it big, not fall for the unfairly perfect backup dancer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(At least, that’s what she tells herself.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Santana says as she twirls her straw around her now empty plastic cup. “You’ve never told me how you got into dancing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t miss the way Brittany’s eyes light up with excitement at the mention of dance. It makes Santana’s lips tug into a tiny smile because she’s sure this is how she looks when someone asks her about singing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been dancing for literally as long as I can remember,” Brittany explains with a chuckle. “My parents always tell me that I was always on the move, and if there was music or a beat playing, I’d be wiggling around or moving with the beat, even as a baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs softly, shaking her head because she can picture it perfectly: a tiny toddler version of the blonde moving her body to music like it’s the most natural reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was a pretty active kid when I was younger, so my parents let me do any sports that even remotely interested me,” Brittany continues with a shrug. “But I got bored of almost all of them except dance, and when I started competing and joining dance groups - well, I never wanted to stop. It was the one thing I couldn’t shake, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Santana breathes out in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles when she catches the look in Santana’s eye before she says, “You feel that way about singing, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods eagerly. “Yeah, I mean I always wanted to sing, but I never thought it could be anything more than just something I did for fun. And then the glee club happened in high school and well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you are,” Brittany finishes with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here I am,” Santana echoes, shrugging despite the smile that takes over her face. “And here </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are, Miss I-toured-with-Beyonce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs loudly, those kinds of laughs that take over your whole stomach and make you close your eyes. Santana takes in the sight as she laughs along, unable to resist how infectious every bit of Brittany is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Brittany asks, but she’s smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks at her. “I’m basically in the presence of royalty by association, so no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany snorts fondly. “You’re ridiculous, San.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana has to bite her lip to hide a smile, feeling warm all over at the sound of Brittany calling her </span>
  <em>
    <span>San.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Who’s Santana kidding? She’s totally here to sing </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> fall for the unfairly perfect backup dancer.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being part of Mercedes’ tour is the most fun Brittany’s had in awhile if she’s being honest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though her limbs are often sore and she drinks more energy drinks than usual to stay awake on some days, she feels like she’s having the time of her life. She’s doing what she loves with her best bro Mike and they get to visit big cities across the country. Touring is like Brittany's dream job, she thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only problem is this ridiculously massive crush she has on Santana. It’s not like it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault - except, well it kind of is because falling for the singer is so easy when she has the most incredible voice and the brightest eyes and the most mischievous smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is like a flame Brittany is hopelessly drawn to, all fiery and bold in an almost frightening way. But when Brittany’s close enough, Santana is warm and kind with gentle smiles and an infectious laugh. She makes Brittany feel like she’s important, like everything Brittany does matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Brittany isn’t even sure she has a chance. She doesn’t even know if Santana’s even a little gay, for crying out loud. And even if she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>gay, that still doesn’t mean Brittany would stand a chance. With her luck, she could be the complete opposite of Santana’s type, if she has one. Or maybe Santana wouldn’t be interested in her like that and would have to give Brittany one of those pathetic </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t like you like that but I love being friends with you</span>
  </em>
  <span> speeches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Brittany’s totally not down for that. She’d much rather just not know if Santana even likes girls than have to be let down gently with the girl she’s on tour with for three months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your crush is so big I bet they can see it from outer space,” Mike teases her one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany scowls at him. “It’s not that big.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please,” Mike snorts, a wide grin on his face. “I’m sure if I call Tina right now, she’d say she could see it all the way back in New York.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Brittany laughs, swatting at his arm. “No she wouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike wiggles his eyebrows playfully. “Wanna bet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re annoying,” Brittany tells him with an eye roll and a smile she can’t wipe off her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike gives her a look before joking, “Careful now, all that time you’re spending with Santana has you rolling your eyes all the time like she does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike!” Brittany groans, shoving him harder this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike nearly falls off the bed they’re sitting on, but he catches himself as he lets out a loud laugh. Brittany relents, grabbing his arm and helping him back up to sit next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No seriously though,” Mike says as his laughter dies down. “You guys light up when you’re around each other. It’s cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Brittany grumbles, looking away. Her cheeks turn a light pink and Mike wears a knowing smile at the sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tries not to think about his comment too much the next time she sees Santana and realizes that she matches Santana’s smile when their eyes meet, how easy it is for them to fall into step with each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently, Mike isn’t the only one who notices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany runs into Mercedes at the Starbucks in their hotel one morning, both of them still trying to shake the sleep out of their system after the previous night’s show. They both sit at a table, sipping their morning coffees nice and slow as they fill the space between them with small talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes is really cool, Brittany thinks. Not only is she crazy talented, but she’s just one of those people who are genuinely nice with their heart on their sleeve. Of course, she can turn the attitude on when she needs to and she’s not afraid to fight for what she wants - Brittany’s witnessed a discussion or two between the singer and her team - but she’s like, totally the type of person anyone would love to be friends with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you and Santana have been hanging out a lot,” Mercedes comments in a casual tone when there’s a lull in conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany ducks her head, looking at the top of her cup and noticing a splash of coffee stained near the opening as she responds, “Yeah, she’s really cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes smiles at Brittany’s response. “She’s a pain in my ass sometimes, but yeah, she’s really cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dancer laughs at Mercedes’ comment, and she looks up again to find gentle brown eyes on her. Something about it makes her feel like Mercedes knows everything that Brittany likes about Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get along with Santana so well,” Mercedes adds, almost like an afterthought. “I mean, besides Quinn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany eyes her curiously. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes gives her a pointed look. “Don’t tell me you think Santana’s the friendliest person you’ve ever met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” Brittany snorts behind her coffee cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that she thinks Santana’s the most outgoing person or even a huge “people” person, it’s just - well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Santana kind of hit it off as friends once Santana got over being an adorable mess with flushed cheeks. It’s not like Santana’s a total cold-hearted bitch who is hell bent on being miserable and alone. You just have to get her to warm up to you - which lucky Brittany - she did pretty easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s not like she’s a social pariah,” she adds with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes lets out a soft hum, like she’s trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words that will help Brittany understand what she wants to say. Brittany sips on her coffee patiently, knowing all too well what it’s like when all your words get jumbled and you can’t get your brain to cooperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not,” Mercedes concedes. “But Santana...she just doesn’t open up to people often. It’s gotten better since high school, clearly. I’ve just never seen her click with someone so quickly like she did with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany mulls over this new information. It’s not a total surprise to her that Santana usually keeps her walls up. It just seems like sometimes, Santana doesn’t have any when it comes to her. She’s nothing but open and honest with Brittany, never really holding back any information as they get to know each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m not surprised,” Mercedes adds, pulling Brittany out of her thoughts. “You’re a complete gem, Brittany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles, bashful and sweet. “You’re my favorite act on this tour, don’t tell Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes lets out a loud, unexpected laugh. “I’ll keep your secret, don’t worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are still things in Mercedes’ eyes that tell Brittany there’s more she wants to say, but they switch topics pretty quickly after that. Brittany lets it rest, though, because it seems like Mercedes has vocalized all she’s wanted to on the matter of her and Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, Brittany returns to her hotel room wondering exactly what it means - the way Mercedes seems to see their quick friendship as an exception to Santana’s regular relationships with people. She also tries not to read too hard into it because, well, they’re just friends. Being able to crack a tough cookie doesn’t make them anything other than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s just trying not to get her heart broken. It would totally suck if she thought she had a chance with Santana only for it all - friendship probably included - to come crashing down with rejection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re just friends, that’s all.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are in Phoenix when Brittany invites her to a dance studio on their off day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is still in her pajamas and curled up in bed on her phone when there’s a knock on the door before it’s swinging open. Quinn had left it propped open after promising to return with coffee from down the block, so Santana is surprised when she lifts her head and finds Brittany at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Santana greets with a small smile, sitting up so her head and back are resting against the pillow now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Brittany responds with a smile of her own before stepping into the room. “What are you doing today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Staying in bed all day sounds pretty great to me,” Santana answers, a playful smirk on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It pulls a giggle out of Brittany who makes her way towards Santana’s bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>think you should change your plans and get out of bed,” she states matter-of-factly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana quirks up an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of my family friends owns a dance studio in town and she said I can go hang out there today since there’s no classes going on,” Brittany explains as she flops on to one side of Santana’s bed with an excited look in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this involves me how?” Santana asks, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles wide when she says, “I want you to come with me, silly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smiles before she even realizes it at the understanding that Brittany wants to spend the day with her. She knows Mike probably would’ve been a more logical tag along, seeing as he’s like an </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> dancer and Brittany’s best friend, but she doesn’t voice that opinion. She keeps it to herself because Brittany is smiling at her like there was no other option on who she’d want to go with, like spending the day in a dance studio somewhere in Phoenix with Santana is the perfect way to spend an off day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How can Santana say no when Brittany looks so excited by the idea?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(She was never going to say no, though. Not to Brittany.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she’ll make Brittany work for it a little, she supposes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Santana sighs dramatically, sinking into her pillows a little. “This bed is just </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> comfortable after last night’s show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany catches on to what she’s doing immediately, and though her eyes light up with slight amusement, she lets out whine. Santana hides a giddy grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, San. It’ll be fun,” she promises, leaning over and tugging at the covers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her best pout, not budging. “You know I need my rest, Britt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs softly, crawling forward so she’s hovering over Santana. The loose strands of her hair fall down her face and almost tickle Santana’s cheeks while her bright eyes regard the singer with so much light and glee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s sure this is the best sight she’s ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come with me please,” Brittany requests in a quiet voice in the space between them before she scrunches her nose in a way that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> adorable. “Plus, I can help you a little with the choreo since you almost tripped last night anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gapes, reaching up to swat at Brittany’s shoulder as she argues, “I did not!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And okay, maybe she almost tripped last night. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was because she made the poor decision of looking in Brittany’s general direction in perfect time to see her execute an incredibly smooth body roll, but Santana caught herself quickly enough that she didn’t think anyone noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly, she was mistaken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs and pulls herself up to a sitting position, the corners of her eyes crinkling when she insists, “I totally saw it. It was right before the bridge of your third song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The stage floor was slicker than I expected,” Santana grumbles, sitting up so she’s leaning up against the headboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she’s fighting so hard to hide her smile, the one that comes at the sight of Brittany right now, who looks so delighted with herself and at Santana’s reaction to her teasing. God, Brittany’s kind of the worst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(She’s not, though.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure it was,” Brittany hums, clearly unconvinced with that same amusement in her eyes. “But don’t worry, I would’ve caught you like I did at your first rehearsal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes, twisting her lips so her feigned annoyance isn’t betrayed by the smile that’s threatening to come out. She wills her cheeks not to flush at Brittany’s smooth line; her charm is ever present in the way her entire face twinkles with something Santana can’t put a finger on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Santana relents with a dramatic groan. “I’ll go with you to the dance studio.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s face breaks into a wide grin, clapping her hands together in excitement. Santana can’t hold it in anymore, letting out a laugh that Brittany quickly echoes. Her eyes are bright and her laughter carries lightly around the room, and Santana’s pretty sure it wouldn’t be hard for Brittany to convince her to do anything, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is how she ends up in a random dance studio twenty minutes from their hotel in Phoenix that afternoon with an excited Brittany leading the way. The studio’s nice, Santana notices, somehow capturing professional but almost a </span>
  <em>
    <span>homelike</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel all in one go. She’d done ballet growing up and had occasionally found herself in the dance studio in high school when the glee club needed a bigger rehearsal space than the choir room, but she can’t say she knows much about any of it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany, on the other hand, is rattling off every single detail she notices, and it makes Santana’s heart swell each time, how excited Brittany gets about every little thing. She knows right away that Brittany feels like she’s home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s how Santana feels when she’s in a space she can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>sing.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The loud exclamation brings their attention to a slender blonde woman making her way to the front of the studio. Something about her screams cool and maybe a little insane with the way her eyes are big but friendly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holly!” Brittany greets, allowing herself to wrap up in Holly’s arms when they’re close enough. “This place is so cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it?” Holly beams, throwing a wink her way as she pulls away. “I knew you’d like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly looks past Brittany, eyes falling to Santana curiously and her eyes twinkle in a mysterious way when she says, “You didn’t tell me you got a new, totally gorgeous girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes widen in slight panic at the comment, mouth opening as if to say something, but nothing really comes out. She’s taken aback by the women’s forwardness and the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s cheeks flush almost immediately and she can’t quite meet either of them in the eyes as she explains, “This is my friend Santana. She’s the opener for the tour I’m on right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoots Santana an apologetic smile when Holly isn’t looking her way, but Santana manages to shake off her initial surprise and offers a hand out to Holly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” she says, finding her voice. “This is a pretty cool set up you have here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likewise, Sweetcheeks,” Holly smirks as she takes Santana’s hand in her own, firmly. “I used to teach little Britt over here in a place like this back in her hometown, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And really, Santana would usually have a response to that, but right now she’s still trying to get over Holly assuming she was Brittany’s girlfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So like, Brittany has to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>a little</span>
  </em>
  <span> gay then, right? That’s why her cheeks turned pink?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taught me everything I know,” Brittany grins cheekily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly laughs. “That I did, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be one hell of a teacher then,” Santana smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly raises her eyebrows at Santana, taking her in for a moment before she looks back at Brittany and decides, “I like this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, but she’s looking at Santana when she responds, “Yeah, me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can hardly hang onto Brittany’s gaze, looking to the floor quickly to hide her bashful smile and the way her face starts to flush, just a little. She knows if she opens her mouth it’ll be a sure stutter, so instead she bites her lip to stop herself from making a complete idiot out of herself in front of Brittany and Holly, who definitely seems like the type of person who would call Santana out on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Come to think of it, she’s starting to remind Santana of a weird hybrid of Quinn and Brittany, with an added dose or two of eccentricity, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly claps her hands together, doing a little spin to inspect her studio quickly before she says, “Well, this place is all yours for the day. I’m coming back later tonight to drop off some new equipment we got so don’t worry about locking up. You kids have fun, just don’t fuck anything up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods, giving her a grateful smile. “Thanks so much for letting us hang here, Holly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mention it,” Holly shrugs, waving her hand at Brittany. “When you tour with Beyonce, you kind of get to do whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out an amused scoff, giving Brittany a pointed look as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>see, it’s not just me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany gives her an eye roll and a laugh before she’s playfully shoving at Santana’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, that was a while ago,” Brittany brushes off with a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, when you’re that good, you’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> good and people should know it,” Holly tells her, quirking an eyebrow. “Now I gotta run, but you two be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She eyes them with feigned seriousness before she’s making her way to the doors, pulling sunglasses onto her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she smirks at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not very good advice!” Brittany calls after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly only laughs in response and throws a hand up behind her as a goodbye before the door shuts and only Brittany and Santana are standing in the lobby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Brittany starts, spinning to face Santana. “Ready to dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks. “Show me what you got, Pierce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Santana is being tugged into the center of the studio, mirrors along the walls that catch their every move. Brittany is quick to plug her phone into the speakers, deciding to play one of Santana’s songs. It blasts loudly around them, and Santana has to laugh because it’s not just </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Brittany beckons with a tilt of her head as she stands in front of one of the many mirrors, a challenge in her smirk when she adds, “Prove to me you didn’t trip last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes before she’s taking her place in front of Brittany, their eyes meeting in the mirror in front of them. Brittany grins at her, opening her mouth to probably tease her some more, but then the beat hits and they’re both automatically moving, the choreography drilled in their brains coming out effortlessly. Santana’s sure she can do this in her sleep now with how many times she’s done it on stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t trip this time, avoiding looking behind her or at the mirror so she doesn’t watch Brittany’s perfectly timed body roll before the bridge. When she lands her spin, she shoots the blonde a pointed look as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany’s eyes are filled with amusement and she laughs quietly as they finish out the routine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then,” Brittany breathes out with a grin as whatever she has on shuffle next starts to play. “Guess you can keep up after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana scoffs, pushing at Brittany’s shoulder. “You bet your ass I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d bet on you any day,” Brittany flirts, playful and light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a dramatic eye roll, but she looks away to avoid showing the flush of her cheeks as she says, “You’re cheesy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you like it,” Brittany argues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana dares to look at her then to find that lopsided smile and shining eyes. Her chest squeezes at the sight, her expression softening just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wish,” she retorts, but it lacks any real bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s lopsided smile only widens before she’s reaching out to her phone and changing the song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spend the rest of the afternoon holed away in that studio, and Santana spends most of it watching Brittany dance. She shows Santana old choreography, but also freestyles when a song she likes comes on and holds conversation in between every few songs. She manages to talk Santana into showing her old choreography from her glee club days, which Santana makes her </span>
  <em>
    <span>swear</span>
  </em>
  <span> not to tell anyone - especially Quinn - that she did, but more than anything the singer is more than content to sit back and watch Brittany do her thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is Brittany’s space, her element, and Santana soaks in everything she can about it. She’s seen Brittany dance, has practically memorized how easily Brittany moves to the music, how she looks so alive. But being in a space where it’s just Brittany, the beat and nothing else - well, Santana feels like she’s got a front row seat to the best show in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is setting hours later and Brittany is mostly messing around now, recognizing the way her limbs are beginning to grow tired and she still does have a show to do tomorrow. Santana is leaning against the wall to the side, scrolling through the notifications on her phone she’s missed with the hours spent with Brittany - not that she minds of course - and when she hears the music change to something sweet and upbeat, she looks up at Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Big Taylor Swift girl?” she teases, recognizing the melody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany makes her way over, messy strands falling from her ponytail and sweat on her brow. She laughs, giving a shrug as she extends a hand out to Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dance with me before we go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is something new in Brittany’s eyes, Santana notices. It’s soft and warm, pulling Santana in before she knows it because she places her phone down and takes Brittany’s hand almost immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to dance to this,” she argues, letting Brittany pull her up from the floor as her brain catches up to her actions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles, sure and steady like always. “Just follow me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Santana does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easy trusting Brittany. She’s firm and sure of her movements, of the way they can move together, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana</span>
  </em>
  <span> in general. Brittany guides her, one hand in Santana’s and the other on her waist, and Santana simply follows. She has no idea what they’re doing, but Brittany’s eyes sparkle and never leave Santana’s and it’s hard to think about steps or the next move when Brittany is here, keeping her steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It should be concerning how easy it is to trust Brittany, but Santana isn’t scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she lets Brittany twirl her around, their reflections moving with them as they glide across the room. There is something so natural about the way they fit; it feels like their hands were meant for each other. They smile quietly and almost secretly at each other the entire time, Santana because she’s not so sure what she’s doing and Brittany because Santana is following her lead effortlessly. It’s almost like a secret language they’ve discovered, one that makes moving with each other to the music easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana feels it again, the way the warmth in her chests spreads and her heart swells. At this moment, it feels like she and Brittany are the only people in the world. There is no tour or NYU or anything else, there is only Brittany and the way it feels to be held by her - a feeling Santana never wants to forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The final chorus fills the room as Brittany picks up the pace a little, and though their movements become uncoordinated and missteps occur more often than not, Santana finds herself giggling, eyes bright and chest warm as Brittany tries to recover for the both of them despite their mistakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany twirls her at a distance as Taylor Swift’s voice rings out the last line then pulls her back against her tightly. They are flush against each other, Santana’s hand still in Brittany’s as they catch their breath. Santana hardly registers the next song that plays because she’s suddenly aware of how close Brittany’s face is to hers. Neither of them make a move to pull away from each other, whether it because they don’t want to or they are simply still trying to catch their breath, their breathing beginning to sync to the same cycle. Santana is sure their foreheads are almost touching, and she can’t help the way her eyes cast down to Brittany’s pink lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in the pit of the singer’s stomach stirs. Her tongue darts out involuntarily, licking her lips. Her eyes never leave Brittany, flickering from Brittany’s gaze, heated and trained on Santana, to her lips. Brittany is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> close and maybe Santana has hoped for something like this since they met, but she never thought she’d find herself here now. She’s sure her mind is playing tricks on her now, but it feels like Brittany’s face is shifting towards her and Santana’s eyes begin to drift shut, unable to keep up with every aspect of Brittany here, pressed up against her, breathing and looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>kissable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey kids!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The loud voice startles them both, the two of them instinctively tensing up and jumping apart at the sound. Santana drops Brittany’s hand that still held hers, looking down at ground as she runs a hand through her hair. Brittany spins around so fast that Santana misses her cheeks tinting pink and her bewildered gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holly,” she greets in slight surprise. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two really spent all day here, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Santana looks up, Holly wears a smile that somehow feels like she knows more than she’s letting on. She isn’t quite sure what to make of it - because what </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> there to know? It’s not like anything happened, and it’s not like Holly’s known her more than for the five minutes they met earlier this afternoon, but still. It kind of feels like Holly can read her mind, and it’s more than a little unnerving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Santana who finds her voice again first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t pull this one out of here even if I tried,” she teases, nodding her head towards Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany glances back at her, giving her a hesitant yet thankful smile before she’s turning back to the older blonde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how I get,” she shrugs sheepishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly nods fondly, squeezing Brittany’s arm. “I sure do. How about you two help me move the equipment from my trunk into the studio and we can all grab some dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re too nice-” Brittany starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope!” Holly exclaims, giving her a pointed look. “I don’t wanna hear it, Sweetcheeks. You’re my guests for the day. Now let’s go get that shit out of my car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is quickly tugging Brittany with her back out into the parking lot, leaving Santana in the studio alone for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana still feels like she can’t quite catch her breath and all she can see in her mind is the way Brittany was looking at her, an unreadable expression on her face and excruciatingly soft-looking lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were her and Brittany about to…?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like they were even </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything - they were dancing to a fucking Taylor swift song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets out a groan, letting her head tilt back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana seriously needs to get it together.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As you can see, I added another chapter overall to this fic - I've got a pretty good idea of how it'll finish out so good news, it's a bit longer than I anticipated! Thank you guys for all the kind feedback and comments, they truly do make my day :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Holly takes them to a swanky restaurant five minutes from the studio, and Brittany should care more about catching up with her old instructor and family friend, but her mind keeps wandering back to the studio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of her feels like her mind’s playing tricks on her, but another part of her is almost positive she and Santana were possibly about to kiss before Holly burst through those doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not insane...right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not insane because Brittany </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> harmlessly - or, not so harmlessly - flirt with Santana more often than not. Or because sometimes, Brittany manages to get Santana all flustered and blushing in the most adorable of ways. It’s not insane because...well, it’s not, is it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana and Holly seem to warm up to each other quickly over dinner, playing off of each other easily with quick comments and double innuendos and witty replies. It’s a surprise Brittany hadn’t noticed how similiar the two are until right now as they laugh at another smart remark Santana’s just made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Holly is still just as every bit of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holly Holliday</span>
  </em>
  <span> as she remembers, brazen and comedic as always. She orders them a round of drinks and stares down the waiter when he looks skeptically at the younger two at the table until he’s walking away and returning with their ordered drinks, no IDs requested. Santana looks impressed and excited; Brittany only shakes her head with a chuckle after informing Holly that they are both indeed twenty-one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly also doesn’t hesitate in sharing all of her fond memories of Brittany back in the day, making sure to include </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the embarrassing stories, her eyes lighting up with glee when Brittany is groaning and looking extremely embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, make it stop!” Brittany whines, giving the older woman a pout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gapes at her dramatically, as if she’s said something scandalous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way, keep it going,” Santana insists, giving Brittany an amused smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany narrows her eyes at both of them. “You two are the worst combination of people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly only shrugs with a smug smile, as if to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Santana only laughs softly, her expression softening into a fond smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, you got to hear all </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> embarrassing stories from Quinn and Mercedes,” she reminds her with a chuckle. “Mike hardly gave us anything on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah because Mike’s a good friend,” Brittany argues, but she’s biting down a smile because Santana looks at her like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, Chang’s always been too nice for his own good,” Holly adds, shaking her head. “Kid was a full out gentleman at the age of like nine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany snorts, nodding her head in agreement. Santana’s smile only widens, and her eyes soften like she agrees. Brittany kind of loves this, how her two worlds are colliding and how Santana is seamlessly mingling with people in Brittany’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>means</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything - it’s just nice, she supposes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Brittany knows Holly Holliday is kind of like the best. She’s always seen Holly as her cool aunt or older sister she never had, the way she’s always been an adult in her eyes but still acts like she’s a college freshman with how wild and impulsive she can be. But for all of that, she genuinely cared about Brittany outside of the dance studio and became close with her family, coming over for dinners and parties before she moved all the way out here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So yeah, it’s cool that she seems to get along with Santana so easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again...not that it matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly offers to drive them back to the hotel, and when Brittany insists they can call a lyft or something, the older woman simply refuses, nudging both of them towards her car. Santana looks amused for the most part, watching Holly lecture Brittany about how ridiculous it is to order a ride when there is a free ride courtesy of Holly herself right in front of her. Brittany only rolls her eyes before she slides into the passenger’s seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, thanks again for today,” Brittany says when they’re in front of the hotel. “It was really fun. Your studio’s amazing and the dinner was so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany offers Holly a grateful smile. Santana had stepped out a minute earlier and is now waiting for Brittany by the front doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly shrugs, smiling back. “It was nothing, kiddo. It’s just so good to see you again. I’m so glad you’re doing all this cool shit. I’m proud of you, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something swells in Brittany’s chest and then all over her body as she takes in Holly’s words and her rare sweet and gentle gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t have done it without you,” Brittany assures her, beaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly chuckles with a shake of her head before patting Brittany’s knee. “Okay, get out of here. You’re getting too cheesy for me. I’ll see you at your show tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, reaching over for a hug. Holly lets out a noise of protest, but she’s hugging Brittany back and kissing the top of her head before she pulls away. Brittany gives her one last smile before she’s reaching for the door handle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Britt, by the way,” Holly starts and Brittany turns back to look at her with a curious tilt of her head. “That Santana girl? She’s one of the good ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany feels her cheeks heat up, hoping the darkness of the night is enough to hide them. Based on Holly’s expression, it doesn’t seem like it does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Brittany hums in agreement, not trusting herself with words at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better get on that before someone else does,” Holly concludes lightly, her voice slightly teasing and her eyebrows raised suggestively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, Brittany’s sure her cheeks are red now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stupid Holly and her sixth sense. She somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> knows what’s going on without actually knowing what’s going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It’s how she constantly knew which one of the other dancers Brittany was crushing on growing up, or when Brittany got her first </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> girlfriend and hadn’t told her parents yet back in high school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stupid Holly.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight Holly,” Brittany mumbles, unable to meet her gaze before she’s exiting the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stumbles just a little, but Holly - and Santana, all the way from the entrance - notices anyway, and lets out a loud bark of laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, Brittany,” she responds, then leans towards the open door and yells out. “Goodnight to you too, Sweetcheeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs from her position by the door. “Night Holly, thanks again!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany only smiles before she’s shutting the door and meeting Santana before they walk into the hotel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forget how to get out of the car?” Santana teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany hip checks her lightly. “Shut it. It was just Holly being Holly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana chuckles, understanding exactly what Brittany means after spending the past two hours with the older woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s really cool,” Santana says as they step into the elevator. “It’s pretty awesome you had someone like her around growing up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods, smiling as she thinks about Holly. “Yeah, she’s a lot sometimes, but she cares, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a hum of agreement. They sit in comfortable silence on their ride up, and now that they’re alone, Brittany can’t help that her mind wanders back to that moment back at the studio. She’s pretty sure now that she isn’t making it up. She couldn’t be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for bringing me along today,” Santana speaks up when they step out of the elevator, pulling Brittany out of her thoughts. “I had a lot of fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smirks. “More fun than laying in bed all day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Santana admits, rolling her eyes before looking at Brittany like she’s ridiculous. “A lot more fun than laying in bed all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany wants to commit the way Santana’s looking at her to her memory. Right now, Santana looks at her with a mixture of fondness and disbelief, like she can’t stand Brittany but in the best way possible. She looks exasperated and amused at once. There’s adoration somewhere in there too, Brittany thinks, and the realization makes the dancer’s stomach flutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” Brittany grins before blurting out, “I guess next time you can pick what we do on our off day, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. She totally hadn’t expected that to come out. It’s not like she expects Santana to hang out with her on every off day they have, let alone the next one. She doesn’t even know if Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hang out with her for a whole day again, and Brittany totally doesn’t blame her if she doesn’t want to. Being with people all day, every day on tour is so exhausting so it’s not at all a problem if the singer wants to spend her rare off day by herself or not with Brittany so-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at Santana, fully expecting confusion and even a slight frown at Brittany’s suggestion. Instead, she’s met with a soft gaze and the hint of a smile. Santana’s eyes are light and hopeful at Brittany’s suggestion, and it simultaneously makes Brittany relax while the butterflies flap wildly in her stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh - um, yeah. If you...you know, if you want,” she stutters out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hardly even registers that they’re at the door to her and Mike’s hotel room, coming to a standstill as Brittany tries not to smack herself for sounding so stupid and Santana looks at her like she’s all kinds of adorable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like that,” Santana nods. Her voice is soft and sweet as her smile widens, dimples peeking out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany could melt right about now, but she manages to pull herself together to smile and nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet. Okay yeah...cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, she’s the worst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs softly at Brittany’s response, rocking back on her heels as she says, “Goodnight, Britt. Get some rest, okay? Can’t have you off your game tomorrow night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s walking away, a smug smirk on her lips as she watches Brittany’s expression fall into offense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m never off my game!” she calls out after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana turns one last time, eyes bright as she responds, “No, you never are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles dumbly at her one last time before she enters her hotel room, mainly so she doesn’t say anything else stupid before the night ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh cool, you’re back,” Mike greets her from his spot on his bed, TV remote in hand. “How was your date?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany flushes immediately, hardly even catching a break as she shuts the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a date,” she corrects. “I just asked Santana to come to the studio with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike quirks an eyebrow. “Did Holly ask if she was your girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany scowls at him in response, which Mike takes as a confirmation before he lets out a haughty laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew she would!” he exclaims proudly. “So, did Santana get the Holly Holliday stamp of approval?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of Brittany wants to throw one of her pillows at Mike. Today </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> a date - even if she and Santana maybe almost kissed - and she totally didn’t bring Santana along to see if Holly liked her. She didn’t, she swears, it was just an added bonus that they totally hit it off. But another part of her, a bigger part of her, kind of wants to talk all about it. She wants to talk about how Santana and Holly are both witty and funny and smart, how Santana isn’t a natural dancer but she picks up quickly and follows a lead well. She wants to talk about how Santana heard all of Holly’s embarrassing stories and still looked at Brittany like she was all kinds of incredible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Mike’s, like, her best friend, so it’s not like she’s never talked about a girl or guy with him before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that there was anything to approve because Santana’s just my </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Brittany reminds him - and herself - pointedly. “But yes, they got along right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike grins widely, sitting up properly and patting the spot next to him before he instructs, “Sit. I can see it all over your face - you’re about to burst with happiness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany snorts, but does as she’s told anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holly’s totally right, Mike is too nice for his own good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Brittany doesn’t mind, not when he puts up with her totally gushing about Santana.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having her best friend on tour is simultaneously the best and worst thing to happen to Santana - you know, aside from going on tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the best because she doesn’t have to wait for their next FaceTime call to update her on her life and get advice Santana usually didn’t ask for but needs to hear, and honestly, Quinn’s her partner in crime so there was no other way she would’ve wanted to go on tour. But at the same time, it’s the worst because Quinn keeps insisting something has shifted between Brittany and Santana even though Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>insists</span>
  </em>
  <span> she hadn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And okay, maybe Santana left out the fact that she and Brittany kind of almost kissed in that studio studio, but whatever. It was probably all in Santana’s head so it doesn’t matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still. Nothing changes between her and Brittany, they’re still friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, things have changed, just a little. It’s such a subtle shift that sometimes Santana is sure she’s seeing things or her imagination runs crazy, but with Quinn pointing out when they’re alone, she can’t exactly ignore it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like earth shattering or anything, but - well, sometimes, Santana will look up to find Brittany already looking at her, and when their eyes meet, her lips curl up into that adorable lopsided smile. And most times, Santana can’t help but notice the way she and Brittany naturally gravitate towards each other. It doesn’t matter if it’s the airport or a meal with the crew or even grabbing coffee with Mercedes, Quinn and Mike - somehow, they always end up next to each other, brushing shoulders or arms and hands while sharing smiles that Santana doesn’t quite understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it’s okay, right?” Quinn asks her one day in their hotel room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks up from the magazine she found upon their arrival, raising an eyebrow. “What is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fact that you’re totally into Brittany and she’s just as into you,” her best friend answers, her tone so casual like it’s no big deal. “And that it’s sickeningly sweet, but in a good way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Santana roll her eyes and put down the magazine in her hands. Quinn’s teased and made smart remarks about Santana’s crush - can she even call it a simple crush now? She’s sure it’s way past that by how much of Brittany consumes her these days - on the dancer, but they haven’t actually addressed it head on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“Fine,” Santana had relented when Quinn kept looking at her expectantly upon her return in Phoenix. “It was fun, okay? I had a fun time hanging out with my friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn scoffed at the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but then she smiled a little. “She’s good for you, San.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, much better than being around you all the time,” Santana deadpanned, narrowly missing the pillow thrown her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky I actually like Brittany or else you’d be a dead woman,” Quinn threatened, then smirked as she added, “Well, you know I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> her like that, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana grabbed the pillow, hurling it back toward Quinn as she glared. “Oh fuck off, Q.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was the end of it, Quinn was able to refrain from teasing Santana the rest of the evening.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re being annoying,” she counters, crossing her arms as she fixes a warning glance on Quinn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn gives Santana a look of her own, quirked lip and sharp eyebrows with defiant hazel eyes. If Santana hadn’t known Quinn for as long as she has, she probably would’ve been a little frightened but how Quinn seems like she can read her so well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can you never let yourself just have nice things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s demeanor breaks only a little, but she knows Quinn sees it happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quinn,” she sighs, shoulders dropping as she looks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s expression softens then, and she moves across the room to sit on the opposite end of Santana’s bed. Santana watches her carefully, but her eyes avoid Quinn’s the whole time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I know better than anyone you’ve been through some shit,” Quinn reminds her gently. “But Santana, it’s okay that something good is happening to you. It’s not some trick the universe is playing on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s jaw works quietly. She still avoids Quinn’s eyes, but she doesn’t retaliate. She doesn’t turn this into a fight because Quinn’s right - she knows better than anyone what she’s been through. From being outed to the heartbreak at the start of college, Quinn was there, reliable as ever, ready to catch Santana as she fell apart behind closed doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just constantly feel like it’s too good to be true,” Santana admits quietly, almost embarrassed. “Like the other shoe is going to drop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Santana has been there before. She’s been so ridiculously into someone and let herself fall and be caught, only to be broken into pieces. And this, what she feels with Brittany, it reminds her so much of the way she felt back then, before her biggest heartbreak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn understands what she’s trying to say - because she’s Quinn, duh - and reaches across the bed so she can pull Santana’s hand into hers. Santana doesn’t mind the affection, not when it’s exactly what she needs at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Quinn starts. “I can’t promise you that it’ll all be perfect and you’ll live happy ever after or some stupid shit like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana snorts, offering Quinn’s hand a squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But whatever this is with Brittany could be something great,” she continues, and Santana can hear her smiling without even having to look at her. “And plus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t seem to find anything wrong with her, so that’s a really good sign.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Santana laugh a little, and when she looks up Quinn is giving her a teasing smile. It’s one that tells Santana she has nothing to worry about, that she shouldn’t think so hard about it. She knows, deep down, Quinn is right. Santana’s been here before, those dark days of high school where she used to live in fear and let her cheerleader uniform protect from the vicious high school hierarchy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks of Brittany, with those bright eyes and that lopsided smile and how Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels any fear when they’re together. Brittany doesn’t scare her, and at times Santana is sure that should worry her, but the way Brittany makes her feel is more than enough of a reason not to be scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes you’re an annoyingly good best friend,” Santana informs her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn laughs, pulling Santana into a hug, mumbling into her hair, “You know I love you, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana scrunches up her nose. “I hate you, Fabray.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you don’t,” Quinn grins against the side of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although she lets out a groan, Santana lets herself relax in Quinn’s arms. She knows Quinn would never set her up for hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t,” Santana admits. “Love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn pulls away, eyes mischievous when she says, “You’ve been nicer lately. I think Brittany’s totally rubbing off on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana immediately scowls, shoving at Quinn’s knee. “Shut up. God, you’re so fucking irritating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s my best friend,” Quinn grins. “But to be clear, if Brittany makes you nicer, I am totally on board.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smacks her leg with the magazine in response. “Fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But really, she’s happy Quinn’s on tour with her.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s hard not to notice the popularity she gains as the tour goes on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>People know her songs and her name. Some people wait outside the venue after their shows, hoping to take a photo or an autograph or even just to say how much they love her music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can’t really wrap her head around it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In high school, she made sure to let everyone in glee club know she’d be famous one day. She had held her head high and sounded so sure of herself, but there were always doubts. There was never a sure plan, no direct path to take. She wasn’t like the theater geeks who clung to dreams of Broadway, nor was she like Mercedes who was discovered off YouTube and immediately signed by a label. No, she wasn’t any of that. All she hoped was that one day she would make good on her word, prove to everyone that it wasn’t just teenage arrogance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And here it is, being laid out in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things are looking really good, Santana,” Mercedes’ manager, Bryan, says over lunch. “People are starting to pay attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes rolls her eyes. “Of course they are, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a small smirk, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all. Mercedes only shrugs before she’s taking a sip out of her soda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad,” she tells Bryan. “Honestly, I’m just happy people like my music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Mercedes snorts. “They like the whole package. Have you met yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch it, Wheezy. It almost sounds like you’re flirting with me,” Santana teases lightly, eyes lighting up with amusement. “Can’t have you falling over me. We’re better off as friends, don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes snorts, looking smug behind her soda as she responds, “As if I’d be the only one on this tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana narrows her eyes at Mercedes, but she can’t stop the way her cheeks flush slightly. If Mercedes’ manager picks up on their little exchange, he doesn’t voice his understanding or opinions on the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I talked to our director and we think we should add another song to your set,” he continues, and Santana’s eyes widen unexpectedly. “You could do a cover or another original song, you can choose. You don’t have to choose right now, of course. Just think about a song and come back to us, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes watches Santana’s reaction with a growing smile, nothing but excitement and pride in her expression. Santana blinks, looking between Mercedes and Bryan. Sure, it’s really nice to hear that she’s doing well, but to add another song? People want to actually hear </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> of her already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - yeah, I’d love to add another song in my set,” she stammers out, nodding eagerly. “That’s...this is amazing, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles. “You’re incredibly talented, kid. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I have a feeling you’ll go far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana feels like she’s flying after that. Mercedes forces her into a hug, but she doesn’t even put up much of a fight. Her chest feels light and she can’t stop smiling and god - is this what it’s like to feel successful? To not have success tied to a cheer routine or one single performance built up on all her hard work and dedication to her craft?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Brittany she tells first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn is absolutely nowhere to be found, probably off on some excursion to find the best corner to read a book in the city or something, but Santana finds she doesn’t mind at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They want to add another song to my set,” Santana tells her in a small voice, like it’s a secret she’s afraid will fly away from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like if she speaks too loud, it’ll disappear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes widen, big and blue and full of elation. Her smile spreads so wide that Santana’s sure the other girl’s cheeks will hurt after, but she finds herself mirroring the smile too. Something warm spreads through her chest at the sight of Brittany so undeniably excited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Santana! That’s amazing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She throws herself onto Santana for a hug, nearly sending them both tumbling to the floor. Santana lets out a yelp of surprise before they are both laughing, nearly knocking into the wall as they try to stay upright. Brittany tightens her grip as she lifts Santana from the ground, spinning her a little. It forces a squeal out of Santana as she throws her arms around Brittany’s shoulders to keep her steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Britt!” she laughs, but there’s no real concern in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde giggles, setting Santana down a moment later before she says, “You deserve this, Santana. You’re incredible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something in the pit of Santana’s stomach flutters in the most pleasing of ways at Brittany’s words. Brittany looks at her, all honest and sincere, a breathless smile on her lips. The way she makes Santana feel is something new but welcome, something that Santana can’t quite comprehend yet. The dancer somehow makes every victory, no matter how big or small, feel like the best one yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana realizes she wants to share all her good news with Brittany always, if only to catch that look in her eye, that look that makes Santana feel like she’s worth every good thing that’s coming her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Britt,” she murmurs softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bites her lip, afraid if she doesn’t that everything she’s feeling inside when it comes to Brittany might burst.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their next full day off falls while they’re in Seattle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never actually been there,” Brittany hums thoughtfully to Santana after they break from their quick meeting to go over logistics with the performers and stage managers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks up at her, eyes fond and smile small when she says, “It’s a great city, I think you’ll love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Brittany asks, raising her eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s stupid, how her chest warms at the thought of Santana knowing her well enough to think she’d like Seattle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something lights up in Santana’s eyes then, and her smile grows wide enough for her dimples to peek out. She looks at Brittany, all sorts of excited and hopeful that it makes Brittany’s stomach twist in the best way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it should be no surprise on their off day Santana is tugging Brittany out of the hotel with an excited look on her face. Brittany can’t wipe the smile off her own face, and her stomach flips in excited anticipation knowing she’s about to spend the whole day with Santana in a city she’s always wanted to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe I get my own personal tour guide,” Brittany teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana snorts, hip-checking Brittany lightly as she explains, “I’m not an expert or anything. I’ve just been a few times with my family, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you are an expert compared to me,” Brittany laughs, then feigns seriousness when she adds, “I’m trusting you to show me the best Seattle has to offer, Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks. “I’ll try my best, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their first stop of the day is to Pike Place Market. Brittany’s only seen this place in pictures or on TV, but seeing it with her own eyes, alive and busy and various scents of food wafting in the air have her a little awed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Starting off with a bang I see,” Brittany comments as they approach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a smile, mischief in her eyes. “I had to start with one of the most iconic places, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is quick to lead the way, and Brittany doesn’t hesitate in following her. It's as crowded as expected, but Brittany is surprised when Santana reaches a hand back and smoothly pulls Brittany’s hand into her own as she walks without missing a beat. The blonde looks down at their hands as Santana moves them along, nearly tripped over uneven pavement in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana feels the tug and looks back at her, smirking. “Look who can’t keep up now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany pulls a face, resisting an eye roll when she responds, “It’s not my fault you walk like you’re on a mission.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please,” Santana scoffs. “What are those long legs for, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dancing, duh,” Brittany quips as she finally finds enough space to fall into step with Santana, walking side by side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her comment pulls laughter out of the singer, sweet and melodic and contagious. Santana’s eyes are sparkling on this sweet summer morning in Seattle, and though the crowd is loud and busy and still moving, Brittany cannot tear her eyes away from the girl beside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana doesn’t make a move to pull her hand away now that it’s less crowded, and Brittany doesn’t say anything about it at all. Instead, she takes in how excited Santana is when they get to the Starbucks, animated and bright despite not yet having her morning coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised you’re functioning this well then,” Brittany teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shoves her playfully, bashful when she explains, “I wanted to get some from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw Santana,” Brittany coos, unable to hide her smile. “That’s kind of cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut up,” Santana groans in annoyance, but when she glances at Brittany, there’s a smile peeking out from the corners of her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks flush at being teased and Brittany soaks it up. It reminds her of the first time they met in rehearsals, Santana tripping over herself and her words. She still finds the singer frustratingly adorable as she did then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Brittany only chuckles in response, feeling victorious when she gets a full smile out of Santana by the time they get to the front to order. Santana is rattling out both their usual orders and paying before Brittany can even open her mouth, and something warm flashes in her chest when she realizes Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> knows her coffee order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk around Pike Place Market with iced coffees in their hands, taking in the beautiful weather and the different shops. Brittany tries on silly hats at every boutique they come across, making Santana laugh so hard she squints and she clutches onto her stomach and begs Brittany to stop being so ridiculous. But Santana is then pulling them over to every sample that’s being offered as they walk, appointing herself their taste tester before she’s holding out another sample for Brittany. And maybe Brittany exaggerates her reactions just a little, but she can’t help it when Santana’s eyes fill with amusement and something soft every single time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so easy being with Santana that Brittany sometimes wonders how they haven’t known each other their whole lives. Santana fell into her life so quickly and easily, and she certainly seems to understand the way Brittany thinks better than most of the people Brittany’s known since she was young.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, why so many family vacations to Seattle?” Brittany asks once they’ve passed the last of the samples in their sights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smiles fondly, her eyes getting that faraway look that tells Brittany she can see the memories as clear as day in her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My aunt used to live here,” she explains. “She and my mom are super close, so we’d come usually during the summer for a week to visit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t live here anymore?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shakes her head. “No, she moved back to Ohio when my </span>
  <em>
    <span>abuela</span>
  </em>
  <span> was in the hospital for a bit when I started high school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany softens, a small frown on her face. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s okay now,” Santana assures her with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t reach her eyes, though, and soon the smile drops and she looks away from Brittany completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But um, I don’t talk to her anymore,” she explains. “My grandma, I mean. Well, it’s more like she doesn’t talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice is a bit bitter and a lot hurt, and Brittany sees the way her eyes flash with something new. It’s a harsh opposite from the Santana she’s been familiar with over the past few weeks, the one with smirks and smiles and control. It makes Brittany’s heart is a little heavy; Santana is seemingly shutting down on her for the first time since they met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows, whatever went down, the wound hasn’t fully healed for Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to tell me why,” Brittany offers despite the curiosity creeping in her bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana blinks, as if she remembers who she’s talking to, and looks back up at the dancer. Brittany can see the hesitation there, but she doesn’t push. She just waits for Santana’s move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s...it’s been a couple of years since it happened,” Santana shrugs, biting her lip. “She uh...I was outed my senior year of high school and um, she basically disowned me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s face falls and her chest aches for the girl in front of her. Suddenly, Santana looks nothing like she always has. Right now, Santana looks young and vulnerable, like the pain of senior year is flashing through her eyes. She feels her gut twist in an ugly way - partly because she’s so angry at whoever outed Santana and partly because she can’t even imagine what it’s like to have the one thing you’ve kept to yourself be taken away from you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana, I’m so sorry,” Brittany starts, but Santana’s shaking her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I was a few years ago. I’ve moved on,” Santana insists, but the look in her eyes says something different. “I’m just glad I had my parents and friends like Quinn and Mercedes when it all went to shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods in understanding, and she thinks about the conversation she had with Mercedes last week.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She just doesn’t open up to people often.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The gravity of this moment hits her then, and she looks at Santana softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Brittany tells her. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the way that Santana looks at her then, all sorts of grateful and surprised, that makes it clear she knows what Brittany is trying to say. Her eyes fill with relief at Brittany’s words, and though it’s not a typical reaction for that kind of thing, Brittany’s chest swells at the understanding they have between each other now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was terrible, but I’m okay now,” Santana admits with a sigh, offering a half-smile. “Sorry, I totally killed our mood for the day, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shakes her head, pulling her lips up into a smile as she says, “Not at all. Come on, I want to try on more hats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out an irritated groan, but lets Brittany tug her to the next boutique they see, giggling at all of Brittany’s antics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when Santana’s eyes still look a little sad a while later, Brittany manages to sneak away from her long enough to buy some flowers - lilies, because they’re pretty and elegant like Santana - to cheer her up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany,” Santana sighs fondly, and it’s the sweetest way Brittany’s ever heard her name. “These are for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles sheepishly, handing them over. “I saw them over there and thought you’d like them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels a little dumb now, saying it out loud, but when she meets Santana’s eyes, they are soft and warm and filled with unmistakable adoration. It makes Brittany’s stomach do a tiny, excited flip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> them,” Santana informs her, taking the lilies in her hand and inspecting them carefully. “They’re beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany almost blurts out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she doesn’t because Brittany doesn’t want to make things weird, even if they almost kissed the other week or if they kind of flirt like, all the time. It’s not like this is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span> and honestly, Brittany’s still not sure she stands a chance. So she just hums in agreement and walks in step with Santana, reveling in the fact the singer’s eyes don’t look so sad anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seattle is definitely one of Brittany’s newest favorite cities. Whether that has to do with the fact Seattle is </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly cool</span>
  </em>
  <span> or because she’s with Santana all day, she isn’t sure. Either way, it’s just about the best day ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana takes her to the gum wall, even though she’s complaining about just how gross the concept is the entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, this place is a germ fest,” Santana points out, wrinkling her nose in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to do it,” Brittany insists, handing a wrapped piece of gum out to her. “Don’t be a baby about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana scoffs, snatching the offered piece of gum as she argues, “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> being a baby. I’m just saying, it’s gross.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh,” Brittany smirks, but she grins when Santana sticks her piece to the wall after chewing anyway, nudging her with an arm as she asks, “See? That wasn’t so bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the nearest bathroom? I think I need to wash my hands twice,” Santana half-jokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes Brittany to the space needle after lunch, insisting Brittany just </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see it, even if there’s a line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a total Seattle tourist thing,” Santana shrugs. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> are a Seattle tourist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany doesn’t argue, just smiles and nods because it’s kind of cute how Santana’s trying to give her all the best of Seattle today. And anyway, she doesn’t really mind waiting in line, not when the singer is giggling and teasing and smirking and sometimes even holding Brittany’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Okay, they kind of hold hands a lot during the day, but like, Brittany’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>totally</span>
  </em>
  <span> not complaining.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it’s finally their turn, Brittany is stunned. The view is practically breathtaking, and she turns slowly, taking it all in. She feels Santana’s eyes on her, knows she’s smirking at how Brittany’s grown quiet, how her eyes are wide and her mouth is open, but she can’t seem to find the words for a smart comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods slowly, turning to Santana. “The city’s beautiful from up here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Santana nods, eyes flickering out to the water before they land on Brittany again. “It is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something about how Santana says it that makes Brittany’s cheeks a little warm and her stomach twist, but she can’t put a finger on it. It’s not like Santana’s talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>her,</span>
  </em>
  <span> why would she? They’re literally taking in the most amazing view of the city they could ask for. But still, as Santana’s eyes settle on her, a familiar feeling flushes in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Santana says, holding out her hand and effectively breaking Brittany’s little trance. “Give me your phone. I’ll take your photo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany raises her eyebrows. “By myself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shrugs. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way,” Brittany shakes her head as she takes Santana’s hand and tugs her closer. “You’re going to be in it with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana stumbles a little, falling into Brittany with a chuckle. “I don’t have to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles softly. “I want you to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something sweet flashes through Santana’s eyes before she smiles back, slow and charming and honestly, Brittany’s knees go a little weak because she can smell Santana’s perfume and she’s kind of looking at Brittany like she’s the most ridiculous person ever, but in the best way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Brittany grins before pulling out her phone and asking the nearest unoccupied stranger to take their photo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stand by the view of the water, arms around each other and smiling big. After she’s sure the guy’s gotten at least one or two photos, Brittany decides to pinch Santana’s side, eliciting a squeal and a “Brittany!” from the shorter girl before she smacks at Brittany’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, letting Santana squirm out of her hold. “I knew you were ticklish!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana apologizes to the guy still holding Brittany’s phone before thanking him, taking it out of his hands before turning to the dancer with a feigned look of annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that?” she grumbles, handing Brittany back her phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shrugs, looking smug. “Just a feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just for that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> paying for our afternoon coffees,” Santana informs her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” Brittany chuckles, following Santana down the exit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swipes through the photos, something warm and fuzzy growing inside of her when she comes across the ones of them laughing. The last one in particular makes her heart burst; Santana’s looking up at her with sparkling eyes and Brittany’s mid-laugh. If she saves it as Santana’s contact photo, she doesn’t tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, where to next?” Brittany asks, and Santana only smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk through a park after stopping at some local coffee shop, drinks in hand as they walk slowly and talk about nothing and everything at the same time. Brittany can feel it, how quickly she’s falling for Santana. It’s not just a crush anymore - she’s sure of it now. Santana makes her feel so many things at once, so many things that she’s never felt with anyone else before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sure, Brittany knows she kind falls fast and hard sometimes, but with Santana, who wouldn’t?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana decides to wrap up their night at a downtown restaurant only a few blocks away from their hotel. It’s classy but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> classy, dim lights and all, and Brittany wonders just how Santana knew to take her here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This definitely doesn’t look like a family restaurant,” Brittany teases lightly as their hostess walks away from their table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana ducks her head, busying herself with the menu when she responds, “I may have looked this place up before we left this morning. It looked good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it makes Brittany grin, wide and unfiltered, like a complete dope, because she’s pretty sure this </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of like a date now. Because Santana’s cheeks are flushed under the curtain of hair she’s attempting to hide behind. Because they can’t stop holding hands when they walk and Brittany keeps wrapping an arm around Santana when it gets crowded. Because god, you wouldn’t take just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span> to a restaurant like this, would you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, Brittany wouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sip wine and fill their stomachs, laughing about just how much they managed to pack into one day. Under the dim lights, it feels like there’s another layer of mystery and mischief in Santana’s eyes. She is just as quick and snarky as she always is, but she’s soft and gentle too - a delicate balance Brittany has come to realize Santana strikes so well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And after, when the restaurant has died down and they finally remove themselves from the table and walk the few blocks back to their hotel, Brittany slips her hand into Santana’s like it’s the most natural thing to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s official,” she states. “You’re the best tour guide ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes and laughs. “I’m really not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shrugs. “Kinda are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re something else,” Santana hums, dimples peeking out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany grins, unable to help herself. “You like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe a little,” Santana admits coyly, her lips twisting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Brittany a little giddy, and the giggle she lets out involuntarily proves it, but Santana’s smiling at her response as they continue to walk towards their hotel, hands swinging gently between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Brittany starts after a moment. “If this whole singing thing doesn’t work out, you could totally be a Seattle Tour Guide, like a real one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana scoffs, knocking her shoulder into Brittany in response. “You’re so full of shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs loudly, recovering from Santana’s hit. “I’m just saying!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well thanks for giving me a backup plan,” Santana deadpans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’ll work out though,” Brittany assures her, voice soft and eyes bright. “The singing, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana slows in her steps, looking up at Brittany with hopeful eyes. “You think so?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Brittany doesn’t get it, how Santana is still so unsure of her talent, of herself. But Santana is looking at her for validation, like all of this won’t pan out the way Brittany is so sure it will.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana,” she says, coming to a full stop so she can properly face the singer. “You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany takes Santana’s other hand in hers, holding both of them and giving a gentle squeeze when she adds, “I told you, you know, that night at the bar, you’re like magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The recognition lights up in Santana’s eyes, telling Brittany that she remembers the moment weeks ago in that Los Angeles bar when they were too drunk and too new to each other. And then her expression shifts, something softer and sweeter and incredibly vulnerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany,” she whispers softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany doesn’t recognize the tone, but warmth fills her at the sound anyway. Before she can even open her mouth, Santana is leaning up, lips pressing almost hesitantly against Brittany’s. It takes Brittany a second, but her brain finally catches up and she kisses Santana back slowly, gentle like she’s afraid Santana could break.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tastes like red wine and something else, something so sweet and sharp that she can only describe it as the taste of Santana herself. They kiss slow and tentatively, like they’re afraid of messing it all up. In the back of Brittany’s mind, she’s partly convinced that this is all some insanely amazing dream she’ll no doubt wake up from, but for now, she tries to memorize the way Santana’s lips move against hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they pull away, Brittany takes a second to open her eyes. She’s afraid when she opens them, Santana won’t be there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> there, a little dazed and breathless, looking at Brittany underneath those long eyelashes and biting her lip in the most frustratingly adorable way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Brittany breathes out, and she feels like a complete idiot because </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she’s going to go with after Santana kisses her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Santana break out in a smirk though, all smug and smooth like Brittany knows she can be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay there?” she teases lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany blinks, still somewhat out of sorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...um, yeah - you’re just…” Brittany stutters, but then she finally gives up, letting out a sigh. “God, Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tilts her head, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Very charming, Britt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s like the roles are reserved, that now Santana has her all tripped up rather than the other way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana Lopez is </span>
  <em>
    <span>surely</span>
  </em>
  <span> the death of her now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(But Brittany doesn’t mind at all, not when Santana is tugging her in for a quick kiss before they continue their walk to the hotel, impossibly close with bright eyes and secret smiles.)</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana hates the fact that their day’s about to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything about today had been perfect, and now that she knows how Brittany’s lips feel against hers, well...Santana wouldn’t mind getting to know them better at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the first time in a long time that Santana’s had this much fun with someone, with only half a plan and a lot of laughter. Seattle’s beautiful and all, but she’s positive now that there’s nothing better than being wrapped up in one Brittany Pierce for the whole day. For a few hours, it wasn’t like they were on tour at all. It felt like she was on possibly the best date ever, one where her date wasn’t afraid to tease her back or hold her hand or keep up with her in every sense of the word. Brittany’s done all those things and more, but it’s how comfortable Santana is around her that stands out the most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it wasn’t meant to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span> - okay, maybe in the back of Santana’s mind, she had hoped it could be - but if it was, Brittany checked all the boxes and more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany makes Santana feel like she’s so important, like she’s never had a dumb idea or a bad moment. She makes Santana feel like she’s valid and that she matters, like she is the only thing that matters to Brittany. Santana’s never felt like this before, not with anyone else she’s been with. There is something indescribable in her stomach and spreading through her chest every time Brittany so much as looks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana never wants this feeling to end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stand in the elevator in comfortable silence, much like they did in Phoenix, except this time Santana actually kissed her before the night was over and was rewarded with the sweet taste of Brittany and a smile that left Santana a little breathless. They stand close, shoulders pressed against each other with pinkies linked, shooting each other stupid smiles every other second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Brittany who tugs them out when the doors open, Santana taking her sweet time because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t want to say goodnight. Quinn told she deserves good things too, and Santana is starting to think Brittany is one of the greatest things she’s been given. It’s only natural she’ll hold onto it - to tonight - for as long as she can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on slowpoke,” Brittany teases, lacing her fingers in spaces between Santana’s now as she pulls them down the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana quirks an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get rid of me or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smirks. “Am I being too obvious about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It gets a scoff out of Santana, who then nudges Brittany and knocks them off balance for a moment, but Brittany is quick to steady them again, her grip on Santana’s hand never wavering. Brittany is giggling as they reach Santana and Quinn’s room, and Santana tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. Instead, she focuses on the sound of Brittany’s laughter and the feel of their hands intertwined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to face Brittany fully, smiling as she admits almost shyly, “I had a lot of fun today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Brittany responds, biting her lip in a stupidly adorable and poor attempt to hide her smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only makes Santana’s smile grow wider, almost smug at how coy Brittany’s being right now. Brittany tugs their intertwined hands towards her body, pulling Santana closer. The singer’s breath catches as she stumbles forward, so close she can smell Brittany’s perfume. It’s hard to focus on Brittany’s bright blue eyes when her lips are </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there,</span>
  </em>
  <span> when Santana is so tempted to kiss her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for today,” Brittany tells her in a quiet voice that makes Santana stomach swoop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana licks her lips, unable to help herself when her eyes flicker to Brittany’s. “Anytime,” she almost whispers, afraid if she speaks any louder, she could burst their little bubble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She racks her brain for a witty comment or something clever and flirty, anything to prolong staying out here with Brittany. But just before she can open her mouth to say something, Brittany’s free hand is coming up to her cheek and she’s leaning in purposefully, closing the gap between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s lips are as sweet as they were earlier, firm but gentle in the way she kisses Santana. The singer can’t help but melt against her, all too eager to let Brittany push her up against the door as a hand grips at Santana’s waist. Santana’s arms quickly wrap around Brittany’s neck, tugging her impossibly closer as their lips meet again and again. She boldly lets her tongue swipe against Brittany’s lips, and she swears she hears a soft sigh before Brittany is allowing her in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing Brittany feels like she’s getting a taste of heaven, and Santana can’t get enough. Her lips taste like the wine from dinner and a lot like strawberry lip gloss; it’s just so innately </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Santana lets out a sigh of her own. It’s not until Brittany lets out a quiet whimper after Santana swipes her tongue in a particular direction that she’s reminded they are literally in the hallway of a hotel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Britt,” she breathes out as she pulls away, back of her head resting against the door. “My key card…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a dazed look on Brittany’s face which is totally </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> helping Santana focus, and she looks confused for a moment before it finally clicks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Quinn?” she asks hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tries not to smirk when she says, “Staying with her cousin tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hopes she doesn’t sound too eager, too willing. It’s not that she doesn’t like where this is going - she totally does - but she actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany and she’s more than okay if the blonde decides to head to her own room for the night. It’s just that Santana thinks she might explode if Brittany lips keep moving like that, and Santana is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> down to have that happen in a fucking hallway where people can probably hear them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Brittany’s eyes shine with something wicked, and something unbearably hot coils in the pit of Santana’s stomach. Brittany is smoothly reaching over and pulling the key out of Santana’s pocket with a smirk - god, she’s charming especially while she has Santana pinned - and is swiping the card through the sensor before Santana can even fully process what’s happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All she hears is the soft beep of the sensor and Brittany is quickly pushing the door open. Santana grabs at the fabric of Brittany’s shirt, tugging her in quickly before the shut doors behind them. Brittany lets out a surprised yelp, but it’s swallowed quickly by Santana’s mouth on hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s fast and heavy after that, kisses getting messy as hands slide under shirts. Santana feels shivers down her spine when Brittany’s hands slide across her sides and back smoothly, pulling Santana’s shirt along with it. The singer’s topless by the time they get to her bed, and she’s making quick work of Brittany’s bra when she hears Brittany let out a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Santana pause in her movements, looking at Brittany in the dark of her hotel room. There’s a gentle expression on her face, contrasting the way her chest moves quickly as she struggles to catch her breath. It makes Santana soften, how fucking considerate Brittany is with a half naked Santana on top of her trying to take off her bra. It’s sweet, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dammit, how does Brittany check every single box Santana has?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Santana breathes out, leaning over to give her a quick peck. “I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s lips slowly turn up into a smile, and she looks at Santana like she’s an angel or something. It makes her stomach flip and Santana can’t help it when she leans down to meet Brittany’s lips again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s the alarm that wakes her up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s not sure where the offending phone is, but she’s blindly reaching for the nightstand behind her until she hits something and is answered with silence. It’s not until the alarm stops blaring that she is aware of the body curled hers, dark hair tickling her chin. She smiles, eyes still closed, because Santana is breathing softly against her, naked under white sheets. Staying in Santana’s hotel room totally wasn’t the plan, but Brittany can’t find herself too upset when she’s waking up to this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Somewhere, in the far echoes of her mind, Brittany thinks she wants to wake up to this every morning.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes it all in - the bare expanse of Santana’s exposed skin, the way her leg hooks around Brittany’s underneath the sheets, how god damn angelic the singer looks when she’s sleeping peacefully. All of it feels like a dream come true, like something Brittany could only ever wish for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of yesterday still feels like a dream if Brittany’s being honest. Of course, she and Santana had been walking the line of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> after the dance studio, but Brittany still couldn’t let herself hope, couldn’t open herself up for rejection by someone who’s quickly become one of her close friends on this tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Santana had kissed her and made it so clear that it wasn’t made up, that it wasn’t something impossible and stupid for Brittany to long for. Santana was there, right in front of her, letting her know she wanted this too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Brittany feel like she’s on top of the world. It’s all those things Santana makes her feel but more and Brittany is pretty sure she could burst from all the emotion, but she doesn’t care because Santana is in her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another alarm goes off and Brittany resists the urge to groan, reaching over and opening her eyes this time, ensuring she actually shuts the alarm off. There’s a soft groan against her chest as soon as it’s quiet again, and Brittany doesn’t hide her smile when she turns back to find Santana snuggling into her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning superstar,” she greets quietly, laughter hidden in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘S too fucking early,” Santana grumbles into her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sensation makes Brittany swoon a little, but she chuckles as she brushes away loose strands of Santana’s hair. Santana leans into her touch, the beginnings of a smile starting to form on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a flight to catch today,” Brittany reminds her, though she wouldn’t object to staying in bed the whole day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh we’re still doing that tour thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, bright and happy, and it’s enough for Santana to finally pull away from her to smile up at her, eyes barely open and dimples clear as day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so funny,” Brittany deadpans, but she’s grinning. “Maybe if that tour guide thing doesn’t work out after singing, you could definitely try being a comedian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shut up,” Santana rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany hides her smirk, eyes bright when she challenges, “Make me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s face lights up, wicked and sweet at the same time, before she’s leaning forward and kissing Brittany softly. She lingers just a little, just enough to have Brittany chase after her for another when Santana pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Brittany hums against her lips, giving her one last peck before she pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning to you too,” Santana grins, looking more awake on this particular morning than Brittany’s seen her all tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay under the sheets and wrapped up in each other for as long as they can, trading slow and languid kisses and giggles and tracing fingertips down bare skin. Brittany never wants to leave this city, or this bed for that matter. She would much rather learn every inch of Santana, hear the soft sighs and see that damn smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s nice, Brittany thinks, that while things have certainly changed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> still haven’t. Santana is still smug and sharp and teasing - it’s just now she kisses Brittany like it means something, and it kind of makes Brittany feel like the luckiest girl in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally realize they need to start moving, they do so slowly, both taking their sweet time. Santana pulls on an oversized hoodie and the first pair of shorts she finds while Brittany collects her discarded clothing from various spots around Santana’s bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re missing something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany looks up and finds her top in Santana’s hands, a playful smirk on her lips. She laughs, tugging her shirt away from the singer’s outstretched hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trying to keep me and my shirt hostage?” she jokes as she pulls it on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shrugs, playing innocent. “It’s not the worst idea in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany reaches out and tugs the front of Santana’s hoodie to pull her close. Santana’s surprised at the motion, but she bites her lip to hide a smile that Brittany catches anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you in a few,” Brittany points out. “You know, airport, flight - all that good stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a soft smile this time, reaching out and fixing the top Brittany haphazardly pulled on a moment ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” she nods, smoothing out the collar before she’s meeting Brittany’s eyes. “It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t have to finish her sentence though because Brittany gets exactly what she’s saying. She understands by the way Santana’s cheeks are a little pink and her smile reaches her eyes and how she hasn’t pulled her hands away from Brittany’s shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Brittany assures her, feeling all sorts of giddy and happy and whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes light up and she looks like she might kiss Brittany then, but the door is swinging open and they both jerk back just a little in surprise. Quinn is holding a cup carrier with two cups, and Brittany thinks it’s sweet how thoughtful Quinn is when it comes to Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana I hope you’re packed-” Quinn starts, but the rest of her sentence gets stuck in her throat when her eyes land on the two of them hovering on Santana’s side of the room. “Oh, morning Britt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning Quinn,” she greets easily with a smile. “San told me you were with your cousin yesterday, how was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn walks in slowly, doing a poor job of hiding her amusement as she answers, “It was good. How was your all-access tour of Seattle? Did you two have fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a teasing undertone to her question, and Brittany risks a glance at Santana who seems torn between glaring at Quinn and avoiding all eye contact with her. She hides a smile of her own, deciding to spare Santana and not point how quickly her cheeks become flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Brittany can’t help but answer, something resembling a half-smirk, half-smile on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks at her, a mix of exasperated yet fond, while Quinn looks between the two of them with a smug expression. Brittany decides to let up, mainly because she definitely feels like Santana is about to get the first degree in questioning by her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to go,” she says, turning back to the singer. “I’ll see you in a little, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Santana finally relents. “See you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Brittany kind of wants to kiss her right now, because her big brown eyes are gorgeous and she looks all kinds of adorable and shy, but she doesn’t, because she doesn’t want to make the wrong move in front of Quinn. She offers a soft squeeze of Santana’s arm before she makes her way to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bye Quinn,” she waves, and she doesn’t miss the incredibly amused look in the other blonde’s eyes before she goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s grinning the whole walk back to her room, mind reeling from just about everything that’s happened in the past day. She’s still wearing that dumb grin when she opens the door to her and Mike’s room, and Mike is immediately looking up with a grin of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...successful date yesterday?” he asks, trying and failing not to sound so self-satisfied when his eyes land on Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike!” she groans, but she can’t even hide the smile on her face if she tries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grin widens. “Considering the fact you didn’t come back here last night and you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes, I’m going to go with yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany reaches over, grabbing the nearest pillow before tossing it in his direction. Mike laughs, catching it easily and not looking the least bit deterred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave me alone,” she pouts, making her way to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Britt,” Mike insists. “There’s no way you and Santana are still </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany twists her lips, hovering at the bathroom door. “Not your business, Mikey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Mike pumps his fist in the air victoriously. “I’m right!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say you were!” Brittany argues, but her cheeks are growing warm and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t hide her smile anymore, the one she’s basically had since she woke up this morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to,” Mike explains smugly. “Your face always gives you away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are actually the worst,” Brittany tells him, but she doesn’t mean it, not one bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike only gives her a knowing smile, and Brittany’s chest swells. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana’s convinced she’s living in some sort of dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because when she wakes up, Brittany is </span>
  <em>
    <span>here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> warm body pressed into hers, legs tangled together. Because Brittany is all smiles and gentle eyes first thing in the morning, and Santana can’t get enough. Because Brittany has been something like a dream this whole time, a wonderful dream of a person who believes in her and makes her laugh and now Santana knows what it’s like to be with Brittany in the most intimate of ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yesterday was one of the best days Santana’s ever had in Seattle, almost beating out some of her most favorite childhood memories of past summers. But it’s inevitable with the way she watches Brittany fall in love with Seattle, a city so close to Santana’s heart. Santana can’t stop thinking about her bright eyes and how eagerly she let Santana tug her along, hands intertwined, to all her favorite spots. She can’t stop thinking about how pretty Brittany looked at dinner - the light and the wine made everything just a little fuzzy, but Brittany was still in startling clarity in front of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was inevitable with the way Brittany stopped on the sidewalk to tell her she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic,</span>
  </em>
  <span> with those big, honest blue eyes and a reverent tone that made something deep inside Santana light up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, she’s literally so into Brittany it’s embarrassing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s okay - actually, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than okay - because Brittany seems to feel the same way about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course Quinn hardly even lets her breathe before the door shuts on Brittany, looking scandalized, amused and smug all at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me you guys only did it on your bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a half-hearted glare, cheeks heating up. “Oh fuck right off, Q!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn laughs that damn signature laugh that tells Santana she’s stuck with the teasing and taunting that comes with having Quinn Fabray as her best friend. It’s loud and vibrant, filling up the whole room, and as hard as Santana tries to continue glaring at her, it falls apart quickly at the sound. She rolls her eyes fondly and does a poor job of hiding her smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You little bitch,” Quinn cackles, walking over and throwing her arms around Santana’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “You actually made a move, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana side eyes her, trying to look smug but more so just flushed and giddy. And maybe, if it were anyone else, Santana would’ve come up with a snarky comment or a teasing quip. But it’s Quinn, and she’s seen Santana through it all, so really there’s no point in pretending around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her look is more than enough though, because Quinn lets out a squeal and hugs Santana tight despite Santana’s protests and attempts at pushing her away. The blonde presses a kiss to the side of Santana’s head before she pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, how was it? Not the sex - I don’t need to ask about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She looks pointedly to Santana’s unmade bed before she continues, “I mean everything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana snorts, shoving at Quinn’s shoulder for good measure. She bites her lip, trying to figure out the best way to describe it. Because if she’s being honest, everything about yesterday was too good to put into words. Santana hasn’t felt like this in so long, hasn’t fallen so completely and surely for someone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a little nerve wracking, but she thinks of Brittany’s gentle touch and her soft eyes and her sweet whispers and the worry goes away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at Quinn, biting her lip and growing shy. “Q, I mean...she’s practically perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh San,” Quinn sighs wistfully, a sweet smile on her face, she leans in like she’s got a secret. “It’s really nice to see you this happy with someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah whatever,” Santana replies, but she doesn’t sound mad about it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And here I thought I was going to have to deal with your useless gay pining for the entire three months,” Quinn jokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Screw you Fabray,” Santana scoffs, feigning offense. “I’m not completely useless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn smirks. “Clearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you’re annoying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m your best friend,” Quinn corrects, handing her the cup of coffee she walked in with. “Your best friend who loves seeing you helplessly into a really nice girl who is equally as helplessly into you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a hard eye roll for that one, but smooths it over with the tiniest of smiles as she gladly takes the cup from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” she chuckles before taking a sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn looks at her to say she really does mean it, and Santana hides behind her cup, shyly avoiding her eyes. She knows it’s a big moment, that Quinn can so clearly see that this isn’t just another one of those people that Santana might date for awhile, not completely giving her whole heart. Yet neither of them push - Santana not quite ready to broach the topic and Quinn not wanting to force her into conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Quinn is happy for her and Santana kind of loves it, loves how Quinn seems to understand with the little information Santana gives her. They drop it after that, Quinn shaking her head at how Santana hasn’t even packed her things and Santana telling her to mind her business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when Santana sees Brittany again at the airport, her chest squeezes in the most pleasant of ways, and she can’t help the bright smile she forms when Brittany catches her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so soft,” Quinn murmurs into her ear as Brittany wanders over, Mike right behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you,” Santana hisses back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn chuckles softly, and Santana misses the look Mike and Quinn exchange when they’re close enough. They wear matching smug looks and stay quiet, but neither Santana nor Brittany seem to notice, too wrapped up in bright smiles and quiet looks. If Quinn or Mike notice Brittany’s hand coming up to the small of Santana’s back as she leads them to board - which, they totally do, by the way - neither of them say anything about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany still holds her hand for takeoff, but this time she doesn’t let go - like on </span>
  <em>
    <span>purpose</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her thumb traces patterns on the back of Santana’s hand while they talk, something gentle about her touch. Santana lets herself fall into it, not even thinking twice before she’s resting her head against Brittany’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tired?” Brittany hums.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana doesn’t have to look up to know Brittany’s got that twinkle in her eyes, a triumphant smirk on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’re not,” Santana retorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe just a little,” Brittany admits before she’s turning her slightly to press the softest and quickest of kisses to the top of Santana’s head. “We could sleep for a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes the singer inwardly swoon, and though they still haven’t exactly discussed what this new development is between them, Santana is more than just content to let it play out as it is. Brittany is here and holding her hand and looking at Santana with those pretty eyes and kissing her with those pink lips; there’s really not much to complain about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Where</span>
  </em>
  <span> is that photo going, Fabray?” Santana asks sharply, not even bothering to shift her gaze or move when she catches Quinn’s phone out of the corner of her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nowhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quinn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her best friend gives in and answers, “Mercedes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a scoff, shaking her head. Brittany laughs at the two, squeezing Santana’s hand before she’s pressing a kiss against her hairline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it’s no surprise when Mercedes is strolling up to Santana when she’s by herself with a shit-eating grin as they wait for their luggage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations, Satan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana narrows her eyes at her, playing dumb. Really, though, she kind of wants to burst because - well, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Santana still can’t quite believe everything that transpired in the past day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes gives her a look. “On freeing us from your seemingly never-ending gay pining for Brittany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what,” Santana snaps, but it lacks her usual bite. “You and Quinn are assholes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone doesn’t affect Mercedes at all, who instead gives Santana a knowing look. It’s fond and understanding and maybe even a little happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re good for each other,” she says honestly. “I like her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tries to fight the smile when she replies, “Yeah, I kinda do too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kinda?” Mercedes repeats, raising an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Watch it, Wheezy,” Santana threatens, but it doesn’t have its intended effect because she’s full out smiling now, unable to help herself at the thought of Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> likes her.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brittany is now sure this is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> tour she’s ever been on and okay, fine, it might have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> bit to do with the one and only Santana Lopez.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch that, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do with Santana Lopez.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’re not performing or rehearsing or traveling, Santana is often pressing her against walls or doors or hotel beds. She gets lost in the taste of Santana, lost in the way her hands roam greedily, in the soft sighs and the gentle look in her eyes that turns hungry and eager when she nips at Brittany’s bottom lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there are sweeter moments too, like when they hang out in Santana’s dressing room before a show, Quinn an occasional companion when she’s not hanging out in Mercedes’ dressing room. Or when they’re curled up into each other on one of their hotel beds, taking turns picking movies to watch before they head to the venue of the night. Or when Brittany steals a kiss - “for good luck, obviously” - behind the curtain in the far corner when no one’s looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana Lopez is incredibly intoxicating and Brittany can never seem to get enough. It’s like every waking moment is consumed by being with Santana or thinking about Santana, and it kind of feels like Santana feels the exact same way about her. It’s like she’s walking on air these days, light and happy and full of endless optimism. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, they haven’t exactly clarified </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> this new thing is between them. Brittany isn’t sure if they’re like, dating or they’re girlfriends or what. It’s not like Brittany needs a label - she’s more than happy to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Santana in any way she can have her, but it’d be nice to make sure they’re like, on the same page.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because the truth of it is, Brittany’s kind of falling more and more for Santana every day. It’s the little things she starts to notice, really. Like how Santana mutters angrily in spanish under her breath when she messes up choreo in rehearsal or forgets the line to the song. Or how any tension leaves her body when Brittany runs her fingers up and down her arms. Or the adorably fond look she gets when Brittany does just about anything and shoots her a lopsided smile. Or the impossibly grumpy pout she has on her face when they’re up before nine in the morning until someone - usually Brittany or Quinn - is handing over a cup of coffee in greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s super cool that they’re like, together, she supposes, but Brittany knows that Santana doesn’t just open up herself to just anyone. So, she doesn't want to push and accidentally scare Santana away. They have a really good thing going and Brittany doesn’t want to mess it up by freaking Santana out if she’s not ready yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that for me?” Santana asks when she opens her and Quinn’s hotel door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany grins, holding a plastic cup of to-go cold brew in one hand proudly, the other holding her own tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell Mercedes,” she instructs conspiratorially as she walks into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana eagerly takes the cup out of her hands before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek as a thank you. Her eyes are bright and her expression has been soft since she found Brittany on the other side of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn looks up from her laptop and lets out a groan. “Brittany, don’t encourage this! You know she shouldn’t be drinking that before a show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you, my mother?” Santana bites out before Brittany can respond, shooting a glare at her best friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently,” Quinn grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on Quinn,” Brittany insists, jutting out her bottom lip in a seemingly innocent pout. “One cold brew before one show won’t hurt her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods, glancing at Brittany’s pout with a slight smile. Quinn, however, narrows her eyes at the dancer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That pout might work on Santana, but nice try,” she scoffs, but she’s hiding a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s getting better at reading Quinn now, and she thinks it’s funny how alike she and Santana are. Like now, when she’s trying to put her foot down but is miserably failing. She bites back a smile of her own, sighing dramatically instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she gives in, but her eyes twinkle when they catch Quinn’s, who seems to forgive her easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Santana says as she leads Brittany over to her side of the room, where her laptop is propped up on pillows. “She won’t be so mad when she’s in the crowd cheering because I sound just </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span> after drinking some coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn gives her a look. “Do you know how obnoxious you are sometimes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because you are equally as obnoxious,” Santana smirks, taking a long and pointed sip out of her straw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn scoffs and Santana rolls her eyes at the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany chuckles softly at the two, claiming her side of the bed - which, they both have respective </span>
  <em>
    <span>sides</span>
  </em>
  <span> of any bed they’re in now; it makes Brittany all warm inside when she thinks about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two best friends settle after that, Santana hitting play on her laptop as the intro to Bring it On - Brittany’s choice - starts. Quinn types quietly at her computer, unbothered by the other two watching their movie, until her phone starts ringing and she steps outside to take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell your mother I say hello,” Santana calls after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn rolls her eyes but nods away, a slight smile on her face as she closes the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long before Santana’s head is resting comfortably against Brittany’s chest. Brittany’s arm wraps behind her comfortably, her hand around her waist and occasionally running her fingers along the skin of Santana’s stomach underneath her shirt. Brittany would think the other girl had dozed off if she wasn’t muttering every few lines under her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I wouldn’t mind staying here the rest of the day,” Santana admits softly against Brittany’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany chuckles softly as she reminds her, “We have a show tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but I don’t think I can move,” Santana laughs, the noise vibrating against Brittany’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll forget all about being lazy in bed when you’re on that stage tonight,” Brittany tells her knowingly. “You love being out there too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a non-committal hum and Brittany thinks that’s the end of the conversation, but Santana speaks up a moment later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it a lot, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany frowns, eyes still on the screen. “Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just being here with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet and shy, an admission that Santana seemed almost hesitant to share. When Brittany looks down at her, Santana’s eyes are focused on the screen. She’s biting her lip, a nervous tick that Brittany’s picked up on over the past few weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really like being here with you too,” Brittany tells her, and she can’t help but grin when Santana relaxes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smiles against her chest, still not meeting Brittany’s eyes but instead snuggling into Brittany’s body impossibly closer. She leans her head up just enough to press a kiss to Brittany’s sternum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when Brittany thinks she can’t fall any harder, here Santana goes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, she’s fine with whatever this is they’ve got going on.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being with Brittany is so easy that Santana it’s hard to remember they’d only met like a month ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s totally cheesy and so not her, but it’s true. Brittany fits into her life so easily, seamlessly getting along with Mercedes and Quinn while somehow understanding Santana in a way no one else quite does. It’s a little scary, but mostly relieving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana knows better than to fall completely. At least, she’s trying to stop herself from doing so. It’s hard when Brittany flashes that lopsided smile at her, or when she’s the first person Santana looks for at the end of her set each night - and she is </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> greeted by sparkling blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just that it’s been awhile since Santana’s falling into anything remotely like this. She’s not ready to be let down again. It’s why she’s kept herself so closed off the past few years, why dates have just been dates and flings have been exactly that and nothing more than a fleeting thing. If she loves from a distance, she won’t get hurt. But Brittany came out of nowhere, literally twirling into Santana’s life so quickly and suddenly with her damn charm and gentle heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Santana doesn’t bring it up, but Brittany doesn’t ask, either. She doesn’t bring up the inevitable </span>
  <em>
    <span>what are we doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> conversation. Instead, she just kisses Santana softly and murmurs sweet nothings into her skin. Or she brings Santana an afternoon cold brew even when Quinn scolds her. Or she wraps Santana up in her arms after a particularly good set, yelling loudly about how Santana absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed</span>
  </em>
  <span> it tonight. And Santana smiles bright and her chest expands and she feels herself inwardly let out a sigh of relief because they can just enjoy this little world they’ve found themselves in without making it complicated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It’s totally counterintuitive to the whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t fall completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing because - well, Santana can’t help it. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is touching up her makeup at the vanity when Quinn strolls in, hardly noticing the way her best friend’s eyes sweep the room upon arrival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Santana greets, dabbing any smears of lipstick away with her finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s your girlfriend?” Quinn asks before dropping onto the nearest chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not my girlfriend,” Santana answers instinctively, rolling her eyes. “She got caught up with some last minute choreo stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn gives her a weird look, sitting up a little as she asks, “I mean, she basically is, isn’t she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana catches her best friend’s eyes in the mirror, scowling as she turns around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she’s not,” Santana insists almost assertively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t mean to come off so defensive - it’s just, it’s kind of a habit. And plus, Brittany </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t her girlfriend. They still haven’t talked about that yet, which honestly is kind of more than okay with Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Quinn draws out slowly, still giving Santana that weird look. “Then why isn’t she? I mean, you’re both sweetly sickening textbook definitions of girlfriends in a relationship, so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana feels her chest tighten, can practically see her own walls going up. Quinn’s seen everything when it comes to her, but it’s still a reflex, an old habit she can’t quite kick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s different, this conversation. It’s different from the one they’d had weeks ago in another city Santana can’t even remember now. It’s different because now she made a move and Brittany’s this new </span>
  <em>
    <span>something,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Santana’s only falling harder, and it’s kind of freaking her out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because she’s just not, okay?” Santana snaps, glaring. “I’m sorry we’re not all traditional like you and have to put </span>
  <em>
    <span>labels</span>
  </em>
  <span> on everything. Some people just like being together and leaving it at that, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure what does it; she’s not sure if it’s the way Quinn sees how she reflexively lashes out or if it’s the way she’s trying to make it a personal dig on her best friend, but it’s like a light bulb goes off in her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it’s clear now, the difference between this and everything else since college started. Because the last time Santana had an official </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it ended with screaming and tears and Quinn holding her until she slept. It ended with heartbreak and pain and a decision on Santana’s part that if she didn’t get close enough, she wouldn’t get hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She understands: Santana has purposefully avoided the discussion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t talked about it,” she guesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana doesn’t answer, but the look in her eyes is enough for Quinn to know she’s right. She keeps her mouth shut, waiting for Quinn’s next comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not Dani,” her best friend says, softer now than she was before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name alone is almost enough for Santana to physically recoil. Something painful flashes through her eyes before she works her jaw. She feels the ache in her chest, a wound she’d thought had enough time to heal already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s mind betrays her. She thinks back to dirty blonde hair and a big smile and loud, recognizable laughter. She thinks back to guitars and quirked eyebrows and the diner two blocks away from school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Calling Brittany your girlfriend won’t doom your relationship,” Quinn continues, ignoring Santana’s tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushes off her seat now, beginning to make her way over. Santana just watches her, cautious and ready to pounce if needed. She works her jaw, kind of tempted to punch Quinn in the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t go the rest of your life refusing to have a girlfriend, Santana,” Quinn tells her in that annoying tone that screams </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m right and you need to listen to me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Not when someone like Brittany is right in front of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember asking for your opinion,” Santana reminds her hotly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hardly do,” Quinn quips back, arms crossed as she stands maybe a foot or two away from Santana’s vanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonder why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deep down, Santana knows Quinn’s unsolicited opinions are usually onto something useful. She knows, especially when it comes to relationships, that Quinn is her fiercest protector. But right now, Santana feels like she and Brittany are </span>
  <em>
    <span>just fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Also, she hates the stupid smug look on Quinn’s face when she’s right.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what self suffering or sabotage thing you’re attempting by doing this, but god Santana, this really fucking good thing is </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> in front of you,” Quinn tells her before her expression softens. “Don’t fuck it up because you’re scared you’re going to get hurt again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gapes at her, mainly because she can’t believe what came out of Quinn’s mouth, but also because she feels so personally attacked. The glare on her face is still ever present, but she’s got no sharp comeback for her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay to let yourself be happy,” the blonde informs her, voice gentle now. “And you deserve to be happy, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Santana can even get another word out, Quinn makes her way out the door, leaving as quickly as she entered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s infuriating, really, how Quinn still knows her better than herself on most days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana still isn’t ready for the risk, not ready for the slightest chance that Brittany will hurt her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(In the very back of her mind, she knows she’s already in too deep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t admit it yet, though.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mind is still thinking about Quinn and her words and the aftermath of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dani</span>
  </em>
  <span> when she leaves her dressing room. She wouldn’t have even noticed Brittany had she not reached out and tugged on Santana’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh - oh, Britt. Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyebrows furrow in concern, hand still wrapped around Santana’s arm. “Hey, are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Santana nods, but her eyes can’t quite meet Brittany’s. “It’s just - yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Brittany asks, not looking entirely convinced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana takes a breath, reaching out to steady herself by placing her hands on Brittany’s waist. The small action grounds her, and Santana feels like she can breathe again since her argument with Quinn. Brittany leans into her touch, thumb rubbing soothing circles on Santana’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good,” she nods. “Come on, we’re on in like two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany still doesn’t look like she completely believes her, but she gives in anyway because everyone else is starting to take their places. She nods, tucking a strand of Santana’s hair behind her ear before she’s leaning in for a quick and sweet kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For good luck,” she whispers against Santana’s lips. “Not that you ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> need it, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana feels herself relax, letting out a soft giggle. “You’re ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like my good luck kisses,” Brittany counters with a giddy smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only smirks, and for a moment everything bothering her seems to melt away. She leans up and kisses Brittany one more time before she’s pulling away from her completely. Brittany looks at her like she can do anything, like nothing could get in her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Screw Quinn, this thing she’s got going on with Brittany is fine how it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But by the end of her set, Santana can’t quite remember why she was angry with Quinn in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Performing does that to her, she’s realized. It’s always been a place of escape for all the shit going on in her life. She can recall those days in high school glee club when they would all be fighting backstage only to be laughing and hugging each other after their performance. She remembers the stupid fights she and Quinn would get into at cheerleading competitions, only to be grinning and throwing their arms around each other because they nailed a routine flawlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when she sees Quinn after her set, backstage and looking at Santana hesitantly, she feels all the fight go out of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I kill that or what?” Santana asks, smirking confidently as she throws an arm around her best friend’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn understands immediately, rolling her eyes as she chuckles, “I think your head’s getting too big on this tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because they have never been the friends to apologize and sit around and talk about feelings for more than a fleeting moment, “I’m sorry” isn’t exactly a common phrase between the two of them - and sometimes that can lead to more arguments in the future - but right now, they understand each other completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Santana doesn’t want to dwell on it, and Quinn doesn’t want to fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes, but she hip checks Quinn as they walk back to her dressing room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn has to get in one last thing, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just really care about you,” Quinn murmurs when they’re far enough away from everyone else. “You’re my best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a big girl, Q,” Santana reminds her. “But thanks, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn shakes her head and Santana’s response. “Hurry up and change, I don’t want to miss the start of Mercedes’ set.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when they stand in the wings behind the curtains, Santana watches Brittany the whole way through. Brittany knows, though, and she throws Santana a wink every time their eyes meet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana misses the way Quinn watches them fondly, shaking her head at how Santana doesn’t seem to realize just how bad she’s got it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smile any bigger and your face will burst,” Quinn teases after Brittany tosses another wink Santana's way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana elbows her side gently, trying to glare but failing with the way she can’t wipe the smile off her face. “Screw you, Fabray.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s moments like these where she doesn’t mind the fact Quinn knows her so well. Because Quinn only smirks quietly while Santana smiles like an idiot and lets herself get wrapped up in Brittany’s sweaty hug once the show is over.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana starts to make appearances during Mercedes’ set, coming out to do the song they recorded together for Mercedes’ debut album.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People are really loving your sound Santana,” Mercedes’ manager tells her. “I think it’s a perfect idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why we didn’t do it sooner,” Mercedes comments, giving Bryan a pointed look. “You’ve heard how me and Santana sound together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana hides a smirk, trying not to let them hear how her heartbeat quickens. This tour is just getting better and better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re doing it now,” he points out. “It’s gonna be a hit!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could’ve told you that,” Mercedes snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana only smiles and thanks him for the opportunity. When he walks away, Mercedes touches her arm gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Top bitches from Lima,” Mercedes reminds her, eyes shining. “We were always going to be here, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks outright this time. “What, you’re not scared I’m going to upstage you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes snorts, shaking her head at Santana’s teasing. “We shine better together, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smirk turns a sweet smile and her eyes light up when Santana responds, “Yeah, I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tell their friends the news almost immediately - Mercedes nothing but proud and Santana still reeling from it all. Quinn laughs and looks like she’s not all surprised while Mike high fives them both. Brittany throws her arms around Santana, mumbling something along the lines of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so proud of you</span>
  </em>
  <span> in Santana’s ear with the brightest smile and the most genuine look on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes’ team treats them to a nice dinner after that - a celebration, Mercedes insists - and Santana realizes how full her heart is at this moment. She gets to do what she loves with the person who always made her a better performer and singer, her best friend along for the ride and always there for - unsolicited - advice and Brittany is sitting next to her, arms pressed against each other and a hand on Santana’s knee, constantly looking at her like she’s the best thing to grace this earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they still don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it, but Santana’s okay with that and Brittany doesn’t seem bothered. Being on tour for almost two months now has them in a steady rhythm, one where they spend most of their time actually performing with each other and their friends, a routine established for meals and down time and everything in between.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana makes her way to Brittany and Mike’s room after grabbing coffee with Quinn at a little hole in the wall bakery that </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nashville. Mercedes had fallen in love with the city upon arrival last night, but Santana’s not so sure. It’s cool, of course, but she just doesn’t think it’s her scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“It’s like, peaceful but lively,” Brittany had commented at dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana thought that was the </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span> way to describe it. Which is exactly why the city won’t work for her - she needs the loud and fast-paced and loud feel of New York to keep her steady.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s just about to knock on the door when it swings open, Brittany on the other side. Her phone is in her face and her other hand is on the door handle, propping the door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey you,” Santana greets, taking in Brittany’s current state with a fond smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany blinks, noticing Santana for the first time since she opened the door. A small smile pulls at her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi San,” she replies before her phone chimes again and she gasps. “Liar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany is quickly typing away a response to what Santana guesses is a text she’s just received. She side steps Santana and starts making her way down the hall to the elevator. Santana, confused but also intrigued, follows her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator dings and Brittany steps in, eyes glued to her phone as she says, “It’s just...I think there’s something happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, is there?” Santana asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” Brittany nods, staring at her phone as if she's willing a message to appear on her phone - while they’re in an elevator, mind you - but her lip quirks, fully aware of Santana making fun of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Santana smile, and she can’t be too mad about the short answers and lack of attention she’s receiving from the blonde. Her phone chimes just as the elevator does, signaling their arrival to the lobby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany is far too distracted by her phone and the text message she’s trying to send, so Santana wordlessly follows her out the elevator. It’s clear the blonde is on a mission, and though Santana doesn’t quite understand, she thinks it’s kind of cute how Brittany’s brow furrows and she’s terribly focused on whatever messages she’s receiving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s surprised when the elevator next to theirs dings and out steps Quinn, purposefully walking out and towards the front doors, just like Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you following me, Fabray?” Santana deadpans, taking her eyes away from Brittany for a moment to playfully quirk an eyebrow at her best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn looks at her surprised. “Oh, hey San. No, it’s weird. I actually just got a call from-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them turn at the sound of Brittany’s excited voice, and something terrible in Santana’s stomach twists when she watches Brittany throw herself into the arms of some blonde guy who, Santana immediately notices, has like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely</span>
  </em>
  <span> large lips. Santana’s chest tightens, the jealousy beginning to seep in. It doesn’t help when Brittany lets out a soft giggle in his arms, looking all sorts of happy when she finally pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is that?” Quinn asks in a quiet voice, sensing Santana’s uneasiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No idea,” Santana admits, eyeing the blonde guy carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost like she’s sizing him up - and okay, maybe she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> - but she can’t help it. She opens her mouth to make a remark about his abnormal lips to Quinn when another, taller figure walks through the doors and - wait a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows that lumpy, uncoordinated walk anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Quinn who says his name first, her voice full of surprised delight before she’s rushing over to him. Santana follows, all sorts of confused, taking in Finn Hudson of all people. She knew he’d headed off to Tennessee after high school on some football scholarship, but she hadn’t kept up much past that. He may have been Quinn’s first boyfriend and they may have been in glee club together, but Santana wouldn’t exactly call them best friends. She found him obnoxious and clueless almost a hundred percent of the time, and when she didn’t, she only really tolerated him for the sake of her best friend or for the club.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(And okay, maybe Finn wasn’t all that bad. Santana just doesn’t like admitting it, all things considered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> unintentionally out her during their senior year. Santana doesn’t forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She also doesn’t forget all the times Finn was there for her, through the outing and the hurt and everything else that he managed to worm his way into.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Finn greets, pulling Quinn into a warm hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana truly has no idea how Quinn of all people has the patience to be friends or even </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span> Finn. The guy doesn’t have much to him outside of being somewhat good at football and singing pretty well despite his terrible lack of dancing skills. He wasn’t a great boyfriend from what Santana’s seen and he always seems to say the wrong thing, but it’s like Quinn has a soft spot for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever, it’s Quinn’s problem, not hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finnocence,” Santana greets, the usual snark dripping off her tone as she eyes him up and down when he pulls away from Quinn. “What the hell are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe college football’s done him some good, she decides. He’s gotten a better haircut and he doesn’t dress like a complete loser anymore. He also seems to have leaned out a little with muscles in seemingly all the right places. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh, maybe people like Finn </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> peak after high school after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you guys know Sam’s roommate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only then that Santana remembers Brittany is right next to them with the blonde fish-looking boy. She and Quinn turn to her in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam?” Quinn questions, looking between the two other blondes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Brittany blinks, realizing she must have forgotten the introductions. “This is Sam. He’s my best friend from high school. We kinda dated back then, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trouty mouth - Sam, Santana corrects in her head as she tries to process this new information - offers an annoyingly charming smile as he says, “Hi, I’m Sam...and I don’t like green eggs and ham.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana stares at him while Quinn offers a friendly smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the guy who somehow managed to date </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany</span>
  </em>
  <span> in high school? He’s got like, no game. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(That doesn’t stop the way Santana’s chest squeezes uncomfortably or her stomach ties itself up in knots, though.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Brittany laughs at his line fondly, nudging his shoulder as she continues, “This is Santana, our opener, and her best friend Quinn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way she’s introduced as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana our opener</span>
  </em>
  <span> leaves a bitter taste in the singer’s mouth. Because, as far as she’s concerned, she’s more than just </span>
  <em>
    <span>the opener</span>
  </em>
  <span> when it comes to Brittany. This thing they’ve been doing on tour, it all feels...well, Santana doesn’t exactly know what to call it, but she does know she’s stupidly into Brittany and she’s pretty sure Brittany is stupidly into her, too. They’re like, dating, she guesses, but they haven’t really had that conversation yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yeah, maybe that’s Santana’s fault, but that’s totally not the issue here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet here Santana is, sizing up a guy who has absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> game and is in desperate need of a lip reduction, because Brittany’s attention is all on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam and I play football together at school,” Finn explains to Quinn and Santana with a shrug. “He told me his friend was a backup dancer for a concert in town, so I put two and two together and realized it was Mercedes’ tour and asked to tag along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he called me as they were arriving to surprise us,” Quinn finishes explaining to Santana. “That’s what I was trying to tell you when we got down here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana still thinks this is like, really weird, especially considering Finn Hudson is somehow friends with Brittany’s ex-boyfriend. Brittany is eyeing the three of them curiously, as if trying to see the connection between Santana and Quinn and the newcomer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We went to high school with Lumps the Clown over here,” Santana explains to Brittany with an eye roll. “Can’t seem to get rid of him, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on Santana, you missed me a little,” he jokes with his stupid trademark half-smirk, half-smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana makes a face at him. “And why on earth would I miss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana, be nice,” Quinn chides, hip checking her lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t nice to him when you dated and I won’t pretend to be nice to him now,” Santana sneers, but she’s only half serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s still the same as ever, obviously,” Quinn comments to Finn, rolling her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys dated?” Brittany asks, perking up. “That’s cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks at her with a frown. “Is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“San,” Quinn chastises lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s cute too,” Sam agrees, and Santana kind of wants to punch him in the face - more so when Brittany gives him a big smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, plans are quickly being made to grab lunch in the city before leaving for the venue and Santana is roped in before she can even protest. Finn’s looking at her with his dopey smile while Quinn’s giving her a look that says </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t be such a brat about it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mike joins them and when he hugs Sam like </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> long lost best friends, too, Santana reminds herself to take a steady breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is going to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> day.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not too much going on in this chapter - and honestly, not one of my favorites to write so far - but we're setting up for things coming up...well, I'm sure y'all can tell with that ending haha. But as always, thank you for reading and leaving comments - they truly do make my day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As usual, thank your for leaving comments and reactions for each chapter! I love reading what y'all think about what's happening :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Seeing her old best-friend-slash-ex-boyfriend while she’s on tour isn’t exactly something Brittany expected when she woke up this morning. But still, she can’t help it when seeing Sam Evans brings her back, just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Britt. Surprise,” Sam says as he hugs her tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is the same as ever, soft and sweet and just a little bit of some type of impression snuck in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The best surprise,” Brittany tells him with a soft giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They dated through most of Brittany’s senior year, but they were friends for years before that, ever since Sam moved in next door to the Pierce’s house when she was twelve and he was eleven. Brittany had taken to Sam quickly, and he only smiled and chuckled softly when she said something strange. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never judged her and was quick to jump on whatever train of thought she was on, gladly coming along for the ride. For a while, it had felt like Brittany had found her match. Falling together in high school was easy. Sam was sweet and funny and charming and everything a good boyfriend should be. He was quarterback of the football team; she was co-captain of the cheer squad. To put it simply, it all just made sense to them and to everyone else around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But with graduation on the horizon and the real world calling, things had shifted. It became clear, for Brittany at least, that Sam Evans wasn’t her end all, be all. Dance was calling, and she wasn’t sure if she could take Sam along for the ride. And plus, he was a year younger anyway. It’s not that her feelings changed, Brittany had realized, it’s just that Sam didn’t take her breath away. He didn’t make Brittany feel the way some of her other friends talked about their boyfriends or girlfriends, and she certainly didn’t feel anything the movies made teenage romance feel like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She loved him, of course. It’s just...maybe she never loved him in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam always says they mutually broke up after Brittany graduated. Brittany nods along like it’s true when he’s around, but really, it was her idea. He had looked at her, with those sad eyes and that puppy-dog look he’d often get around her, like he suddenly had no direction. And it broke her a little, because she knew deep down Sam had thought Brittany was </span>
  <em>
    <span>the one</span>
  </em>
  <span> back then</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But they were best friends before anything else, so he sucked it up and said he understood, promising to always be there if she needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was that, no crying or drama. It’s only natural, then, that they’d drift apart. Brittany was busy breaking into the dance scene in New York with Mike and Sam was still in high school for another year before he went off to get a big football scholarship. They would text each other from time to time and maybe occasionally meet for lunch on the rare chance Brittany visited her hometown, but that was really it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing him again is like a rush of nostalgia, and Brittany can’t help but smile when she thinks about it all now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s so swept up in excitement and surprise that it’s a miracle she doesn’t completely falter when she attempts to introduce Santana. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Santana-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause, barely there, and then, “our opener, and her best friend Quinn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(If Santana notices, she doesn’t show it. She just looks at Sam, and for the first time in what feels like a long time, Brittany can’t seem to read her expression.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just that she doesn’t exactly know how to introduce someone to Santana, not when they’ve been around the same people for over a month now. It’s not something they’ve talked about and it’s definitely not something Brittany’s thought about - not because she doesn’t want to show off Santana because, who wouldn’t? - it’s just that they’ve kind of been inside a tour bubble and it’s nice and Brittany’s simply taking it one day at a time. She’s always been a more go-with-the-flow type of person, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Brittany scrambles quickly, having to introduce her former best friend and ex-boyfriend to...well, to Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana, who kisses Brittany like it’s the first time every time. Who usually doesn’t quite believe Brittany when she tells her how incredible she is. Who is so, so soft in moments alone with Brittany that it’s hard to remember she can easily flip that switch when she needs to. Who plans a whole day in Seattle just for Brittany. Who has the most hypnotizing voice and draws almost anybody in with just a simple smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana, who Brittany would love nothing more than to call her </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it’s a topic the singer seems to easily avoid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she doesn’t get much of a chance to dwell on it because Quinn and Finn are talking, Satnana’s attitude is showing, and it’s kind of hard to keep up with it all. She does watch with interest though, how Santana puts on her typical act with Finn, but Brittany can see the way she hides a smile with an eye roll. She thinks it’s kind of cool how Sam is somehow friends with Santana’s high school friend - and apparently Quinn’s ex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany isn’t even all too sure how they decide to go to lunch, or how Mike knows to come to the lobby, but she takes it all in stride. It makes her heart swell when Mike and Sam hug, like her new best bro and her old best bro are together and it kind of feels like home even though they’re literally in Tennessee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam is quick to throw an arm around both Brittany and Mike’s shoulders, filling the space with words and things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s been so long</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you guys are literally the coolest</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Brittany falls into it easily, eager to catch up and fill in the gaps where she and Sam haven’t caught up recently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Sam was her best friend, and even though they dated for awhile, he’s still one of her best bros. It’s so comforting to know, that even after breaking up and drifting apart, he is still as warm and friendly as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She totally thinks he’d love Santana.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana hates Sam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but he is definitely not one of her favorite people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sits at a circular booth squeezed between Finn and Mike - which, how did she even get here? - and watches across from her as Brittany looks at Sam like he’s the best thing on the fucking planet. Her bright eyes never leave him for too long and her smile never fades, and it kind of makes Santana sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that Brittany isn’t allowed to have other friends - Santana’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of person, come on - it’s just that she can’t stop hearing the fact Brittany and Sam used to </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span> which means there’s still a possibility that feelings are still there. If feelings are still there then…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Santana’s been down that road before. She doesn’t want to go there again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember that time we made an army of gummy bears for our science project?” Sam asks Brittany with an irritatingly charming grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany bursts out in loud laughter, bright and full, before she’s clutching onto Sam’s arm as she answers, “We ate all of them after, didn’t we? We were both sick for days after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we had homecoming that weekend,” Sam recalls, shaking his head at the memory. “That was my worst game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God I don’t know how I got through that half time routine with cheer,” Brittany admits, smiling fondly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugh, god. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany was a cheerleader in high school and Sam was on the football team. Of course they were that all-American couple where the boy falls in love with the girl next door and they’re both blonde and both equally as gorgeous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Yeah, okay, Santana will admit it. She’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>blind,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the trouty mouth guy is attractive.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tries to seethe in a subtle manner from her seat. It seems to work because everyone else is talking around her, hearing old stories and bringing up memories. Whether it’s Mike jumping in or Finn, the conversation doesn’t stop. Quinn, who sits on the other side of Finn, seems to be the only one who notices Santana’s lack of enthusiasm, giving her a glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead giving her a discreet shake of their head. The last thing she needs is Quinn trying to tell her </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Finn starts, looking at Santana and Quinn on either side of him. “How’s life on tour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana’s basically on her way to becoming a superstar,” Quinn teases lightly, leaning over the table to give Santana a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana snorts, shaking her head. “She’s exaggerating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No she’s not,” Brittany pipes up over the straw in her cup. “Quinn’s so right. Santana’s totally killing it. Everyone’s falling in love with her everywhere we go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about the way Brittany says it makes Santana look at her. Brittany’s eyes are bright and focused on her, but the dancer looks like she’s just told them the date or time or what color her shirt is. She looks like what she’s said is a fact, non-negotiable, and like it’s totally not a big deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone, huh?” Finn teases unknowingly, nudging his arm against Santana’s playfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana hardly even registers Finn at all. Instead, she looks at Brittany with intrigue, trying to figure her out at this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Totally,” Brittany nods easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a sip of her soda, vivid eyes never leaving Santana. She smiles; it’s so small that Santana is sure she wouldn’t have seen it unless she’d already been looking at her. Brittany’s eyes light up like there’s a secret behind them that Santana’s dying to know. It makes her stomach flutter and her chest squeeze in a way the singer can’t pinpoint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana kind of forgets about Trouty Mouth and his long, scripted history with Brittany that feels straight out of a 2000s teens movie when Brittany looks at her like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Breaking hearts left and right now, Santana?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn’s question pulls her away from Brittany’s gaze, and she pulls a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you like to know, Finnocence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckles fondly, shaking his head. “You’re still the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t,” Santana comments with a look. “Seriously, what are they feeding you out here? You actually look decent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn rolls her eyes at Santana’s comment, patting at Finn’s shoulder. “I think you look good, Finn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She has to say that to justify dating you,” Santana tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s only kidding, but god is it fun to watch Quinn scold her from across the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn right he looks good,” Sam - who Santana had forgotten existed until he opened his ginormous mouth - pipes up. “The girls are all lining up for our star quarterback at school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn’s lips twist shyly as his cheeks become a tinted pink and Santana smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he still doesn’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> game,” she guesses, tone light and teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up Santana,” Finn mumbles, but he can’t quite look at her and she just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn leans over and looks at Santana mischievously. “He had to have some game sophomore year when you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quinn,” Santana glares, jaw working when Quinn gives her a satisfied smirk in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yeah, okay maybe she </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>sleep with Finn that one time sophomore year, but they don’t really talk about that. Unless Finn’s trying to be sweet and sappy and tell her she means something to him because like, she was his first or whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugh, gross. She hates thinking about it sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana notices Finn stifling laughter next to her and hits his arm. “Shut it, Hudson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does a poor job at holding back his laughter after he’s been called out, giving her his annoying half-smirk. “Whatever you say, Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only rolls her eyes. When they drift to Brittany, she’s looking at Santana with curiosity and playfulness, and Santana can’t help the small smile she gives when she shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, you’re such a stud,” Sam laughs with a shake of his head, and Santana can’t tell if he’s joking or serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s pretty sure it’s a lost cause if big lips over here looks up to someone like Finn Hudson, but she keeps that part of it to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please, I bet you’re pulling girls too,” Mike tells Sam, wiggling his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes are on Sam again, a playful grin on her face as she nudges him with her shoulder. “Oh, he totally is. Come on, have you seen this guy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam, for his part, only shakes his head with a soft chuckle, mumbling how ridiculous his friends are. It’s hard to ignore how his eyes soften when they fall on Brittany, how his smile turns into something sweet and reserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s smile drops almost instantly at that, and she resists the urge to let out petulant scoff. She sinks back into her seat, just a little bit, because Brittany is too busy teasing Sam and it almost feels like they’re flirting maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(In the back of her mind, Santana knows it’s not flirting. She knows Brittany is playful and sweet and all kinds of charming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just doesn’t help that Sam smiles differently when he looks at Brittany, different than how he smiles at Finn or Mike or even herself and Quinn. In fact, it makes something weird churn in Santana’s stomach, her mind going back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>history</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>unresolved feelings.</span>
  </em>
  <span>)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow she makes it through lunch without a single snarky comment in Sam’s direction, which Santana mentally pats herself on the back for. When they get back to the hotel, the whole group lingers in the lobby, Mercedes strolling in with her manager and going wide-eyed when she finds Finn Hudson standing there. She’s immediately rushing over and enveloping Finn in a big hug, and Santana rolls her eyes fondly, because she knows Mercedes found Finn as irritating as she did back in the day, but at least Mercedes’s soft spot is bigger for him than Santana’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, you keep making that face, but I think you’re actually friends with Finn even if you won’t admit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana turns to find Brittany at her side, smiling like she knows Santana’s secrets. She shakes her head, snorting softly at Brittany’s suggestion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insists, twisting her lips to hide a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s smile only grows at Santana’s response and she pokes at her side. “Sure I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana giggles, jerking her body away from Brittany’s touch. She swats at Brittany’s hand, attempting to scold her but laughter keeps bubbling up her throat. Brittany laughs, too, and Santana forgets about lunch and Trouty Mouth for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking of going to a coffee shop a few blocks away,” she starts. “Probably grab a to-go one for Quinn while I’m there. You wanna come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods, bouncing on her heels as she replies, “I would love-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Britt!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both turn their heads to Mike and Sam a few feet away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam wants to show us their school real quick before we have to go to the venue,” Mike explains. “Wanna go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get to see some real Tennessee,” Sam tells her, bribing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s shoulders drop a little, and her stomach sinks at the invitation. She looks to Brittany, but the girl is opening her mouth only for nothing to come out. She looks hesitant and unsure before she’s looking back at Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of Santana wants to say Brittany was already saying yes to coffee, that she’d really rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to deal with Brittany being around her ex-boyfriend for longer than necessary. But Santana can see the guilt in Brittany’s eyes, a sign of how conflicted she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And anyway, Brittany’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> Santana’s girlfriend. There’s no reason Brittany should even be concerned about going to hang out with Mike and Sam. Something turns sour in Santana's mouth when the thought crosses her mind, but she pushes it away quickly, reminding herself that this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine, </span>
  </em>
  <span>they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Go be with your friends,” she finally says, giving the best smile she can muster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany still looks conflicted, her lips jutting out into that adorable pout. “Do you want to come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shakes her head. “I think I need a nap before the show.” She lies before she reaches out and squeezes Brittany’s hand in assurance. “Go hang out with them, and make sure you make fun of Finn for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles a little at that, shaking her head fondly. “Rain check on coffee then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dancer leans forward and places a quick kiss to Santana’s cheek before giving her hand a squeeze in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you in a little,” she promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun,” Santana says, and she wonders if Brittany knows she doesn’t really mean it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she does, Brittany doesn’t say anything. She just gives her one last smile before she’s skipping over to Mike and Sam, Finn joining them a moment later. It doesn’t take long before Brittany is letting out a bright laugh at something Sam’s said, and he smiles at her like did at the diner, and something unpleasant twists in Santana’s stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coffee?” Quinn asks when the group has left and Mercedes spots someone on the crew she needs to talk to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods, surprised when Quinn doesn’t even say anything when she orders a cold brew at the first coffee shop they spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, no ‘this is bad for you’ speech?” she mocks as they occupy a table in the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn looks at her knowingly. “I’ll let it slide this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana eyes her suspiciously, but Quinn is now scrolling on her phone. She lets it go, trying to enjoy the fact Quinn isn’t up her ass about her voice for the show tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pang of something unfamiliar flashes across her chest when she pulls out her phone to text Brittany only to remember Brittany’s not with them because she’s with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana thinks she’s actually doing an excellent job of pretending not to care that Brittany is somewhere in Nashville with her ex-boyfriend until Quinn looks at her from her bed in their shared hotel room, scowling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is pathetic, even for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana immediately fixes a glare on her. “What the hell are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please, why else do you think I didn’t give you crap for your cold brew?” Quinn questions, sitting up. “You’ve been moping around since Brittany left with that Sam guy and Finn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have not!” Santana argues immediately, crossing her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn lets out an unamused scoff and quirks an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been in a mood since we met him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop being ridiculous,” Santana tells her, looking away with a scowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn studies her for a moment. Santana tries not to squirm under her gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany introduced you as the opener earlier,” Quinn recalls. “to Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana bristles, and she doesn’t even have to look to know the gears are turning in her best friend’s mind. She continues to avoid eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she? I don’t remember,” she lies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“San,” Quinn frowns, sounding a mix of disappointed and frustrated. “How is she supposed to know what to say when you won’t talk to her about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s easier this way,” Santana insists, but they both know by now it’s a weak argument.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it? Because it sure doesn’t look like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana finally looks at Quinn again, eyes narrowing. “Oh please, enlighten me then, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> it look like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn doesn’t hesitate, eyes steady on Santana as she delivers her reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks like you’re still jealous even though you keep saying Brittany is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> your girlfriend. It looked like you wanted to punch Sam’s throat all throughout lunch, and it looks like you’re scared of losing her either way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s jaw works. Her eyes prickle with something she vaguely registers as tears, but she can’t tell if they’re angry or frustrated or scared tears. Whatever it is, she doesn’t want to find out. So instead she turns her face away from Quinn, blinking furiously until they go away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because she knows Quinn’s right and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quinn</span>
  </em>
  <span> knows she’s right. Because even if she doesn’t say it, it feels like Brittany’s her girlfriend - and fuck, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> likes Brittany. As in, maybe falling into something more than just </span>
  <em>
    <span>liking</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany. And yeah, Santana was fine with everything because it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Sam Trouty Mouth whatever-his-last-name-is pops out of nowhere, and suddenly Santana is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>fine. Suddenly, Santana feels like she has competition, like despite his lack of game and his stupidly large lips, blondie could easily charm his way back into Brittany’s love life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just feels a little too familiar, is all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because last time, Santana thought nothing of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, she can’t let it slide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Screw you, Quinn,” she finally says, but it lacks any real threat or snark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t like-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking say it,” Santana warns, her body tensing. “Just don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her surprise, Quinn obliges. She hears the blonde move off her bed and let out a sigh before she’s walking towards the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana, you need to consider Brittany might be worth the risk,” Quinn states, her voice gentle compared to the sharp accusation from moments ago. She adds, “I think she might be, if you care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, Quinn walks out, leaving Santana in their hotel room by herself to sit in anger and frustration and fear and just about every other confusing emotion she refuses to deal with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t see Quinn again until they leave for the venue, and when their eyes meet, Quinn only gives her an eye roll before she’s moving so Santana can claim her aisle seat on the bus. They don’t talk about it - because they're </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and honestly Santana has a show to focus on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany is waiting for her when she leaves her dressing room, like she always is. She’s there, around the corner, tucked away but still visible for Santana to see her. Despite where Brittany’s been before now, Santana smiles at the sight of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey you,” Brittany breathes out when they’re close enough, reaching out to take Santana’s hands in hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fancy seeing you around here,” Santana teases, smirking just a little when Brittany gives her a fond eye roll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” the dancer hums, leaning in and giving Santana a soft and sweet kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It lingers, and Santana has to fight every instinct she has to pull Brittany closer, to wrap her arms around her. Because it’s only now, kissing Brittany for the first time all day when she hasn’t had to think about </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing it for a few weeks now, that she realizes how much she’d missed the feeling of Brittany against her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany pulls away too soon for Santana’s liking, but hovers close enough to mumble against Santana’s lips, “But you never need luck, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some extra luck from you never hurts,” Santana flirts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany pulls back fully now and beams, a soft giggle escaping her lips. For a moment, Santana forgets about Trouty Mouth and her fight with Quinn. Here, moments before she does the thing she loves the most, Brittany is looking at her like she’s magic and Santana takes it all in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And honestly, maybe Santana should perform when she’s got about a thousand conflicting emotions going on at the same time. Because she’s absolutely positive she gives the performance of her life tonight. There is something new and electric about the way she sings, the way the crowd reacts, the sound of the music. Santana knows she’s killed it, that this is the best performance she’s had on tour hands down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s apparently not the only one who thinks so. Santana has hardly even walked off the stage before she is practically being tackled by Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana!” she yelps in Santana’s ear, squeezing her tight before pulling back to grab at her by the shoulders. “Where did that come from? You were - oh my god, San. You’re incredible!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s practically tripping over her words, but Santana only smiles like an idiot, still trying to catch her breath. The dancer sounds so proud and in awe of Santana, and it makes the singer swoon, because she can’t recall a time anyone’s ever made her feel this way before. She’s always had people in her corner, but having Brittany in her corner like this? Well, Santana feels like she’s on top of the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Santana somehow remembers to say, still unable to wipe the smile off her face. “I don’t know - I just - I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re amazing,” Brittany adds softly, eyes sparkling in admiration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost feels like too much, but at the same time Santana can’t get enough. It fills her to the brim, an all-consuming feeling that she doesn’t want to push away. She hopes Brittany never stops looking at her like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana turns to see Quinn barreling down the hallway, much like she did that first night, and Brittany quickly moves out of the way, laughing at Quinn as the other blonde tackles Santana into a hug of her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quinn!” Santana squeals, losing her footing for just a moment before righting the two of them back up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s like you’re possessed,” Quinn jokes, still holding tight onto the singer but pulling away so she can look at her face. “Seriously, I’ve never seen you like that before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks at Quinn, who is giddy and thrilled and adoring. It’s rare to see Quinn like this, so unabashedly happy, but Santana falls into it easily, grinning like an idiot at Quinn before they’re both bursting into laughter, like neither of them believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it was the cold brew,” Santana deadpans when their laughter settles, earning a scoff from Quinn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In your dreams,” Quinn quips back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks behind Quinn to find Finn standing there watching them, a genuine smile on his face. He’s got his hands shoved in his pockets and he just looks so much like he did in high school, it’s hard not to soften just a little. When their eyes meet, his smile widens in that irritating way that tells Santana he’s a little nervous and bashful, but his eyes - god, Santana didn’t think her chest would ever swell at the way Finn’s looking at her right now. He looks so proud of her, but also like he’s known she would become this all along. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and holds his arms out open, almost hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>High school Santana - the sophomore version, definitely - would scoff at the silent exchange they have. Now, Santana slides out of Quinn’s arms and makes a show of rolling her eyes, but she can’t hide her smile as she fits into Finn’s side and wraps her arms around his body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so awesome Santana,” he tells her, giving her a soft squeeze around the shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks and replies, “As always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn lets out a soft chuckle and nods in agreement before he lets her go. Santana turns around to find Brittany again, her stomach sinking when her eyes find the blonde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany is being spun around by Sam a few feet away, both of them laughing uncontrollably. Sam finally puts her back on her feet, but his hand stays around her waist, like he thinks it belongs there. There’s that uncomfortable coil in her stomach again, and Santana is quickly turning on her heels and making her way towards her dressing room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” she says without looking back at her two friends - fine, Finn’s kind of her friend. “I need to change before Mercedes’ set starts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That image of Brittany happy and laughing and carefree with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam</span>
  </em>
  <span> burns in her mind, a memory she can’t quite shake.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, they end up at a bar after the show, Finn leading the way. Mercedes and a few of the dancers meet up with them there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For awhile, it’s fine. It’s fine because Mercedes is freaking out over Santana’s set and letting her know just how insanely talented she is and Santana is laughing and shaking her head like she doesn’t fully believe it. It’s fine because Brittany and Mike join in, raving about the show and how ridiculously good Santana sounded, Mike throwing an arm around Santana’s shoulder and pulling her close in a sideways hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get off of me you freak,” Santana groans, but she makes no actual move to pull away. “What are you, like three hundred pounds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike, used to Santana’s teasing quips by now, drags his body a little bit so more of his weight is on her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, you tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s wearing a cheeky grin and his face is </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossible</span>
  </em>
  <span> to stay mad at. So Santana gives him a playful glare, shoving at his side. Brittany shakes her head at them, laughing without reserve as they walk towards the bar, eyes shining at her two favorite people in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s fine, it’s all fine - it’s fine until it’s not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because one second, they are a big group together, laughing and happy and the next, Santana is too many shots in and Brittany is nowhere to be found.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s sitting at a table with Quinn, Mercedes and Finn. She’s rolling her eyes at some idiotic comment Finn’s made when she realizes that somehow, not one but </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> blondes have disappeared. She tries to remember them leaving, tries to recall Brittany saying something about going somewhere, but she falls short. She remembers Mike being pulled away by some of the other dancers for a round of shots, but that’s all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana opens her mouth to ask where Brittany is when she spots them. In the far corner of the bar, they sit on stools far too close to each other. Brittany is talking animatedly about something, hands moving everywhere. Sam looks a little too comfortable with the way he leans towards Brittany, stupidly charming smile and easy going demeanor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam’s cool, right?” Finn asks, following Santana’s line of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a loud scoff, giving Finn a look. “That’s the best they’ve got out here in Tennessee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes, clearly not clued in to Santana’s day-long debacle, frowns. “I think he’s sweet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh boy,” Quinn mutters under her breath, bracing herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please,” Santana scowls behind her drink. “His lips are ginormous for his face - I mean, they’re like fucking pillows. And let’s not forget he’s got absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> game whatsoever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn’s lips quirk into a slight frown. “Come on, Santana. Don’t be mean about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you met Santana?” Quinn quips, giving Finn a pointed look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And plus,” Finn continues, ignoring Quinn. “Sam’s got game. I mean, look at him right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the wrong thing to say. Both Mercedes and Quinn exchange a glance before they fix their gazes on Santana. And Santana, if she wasn’t well on her way to a hangover, and hadn’t spent all day agonizing over Sam and Brittany and their </span>
  <em>
    <span>history</span>
  </em>
  <span>, probably wouldn’t have cared as much, wouldn’t have felt so affected by Finn’s choice of words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> are you talking about? He’s over there talking to Brittany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone hints at something dangerous, but Finn - like always - doesn’t notice. He never does. Some things never change between them, apparently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh yeah, obviously,” Finn nods, looking at Santana as if she’s the slow one. “You know they like...dated, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s jaw works. The jealousy flames up in her chest, but she tries to quell it down, tries to reign in her emotions because she is drunk and Finn has always been stupid. She tries not to think about loud, unmistakable laughter and the diner down the street from NYU.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see what that has to do with right now,” Santana tells him. “They dated. Past tense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Finn nods, like it somehow proves his point. “Sam’s like, still totally in love with her. Why do you think he drove us out here for the day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that follows his question is tense. Mercedes and Quinn only watch Santana. Finn looks around, not sure what he’s missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana feels her stomach drop. Her chest aches in a way it hasn’t in a long time now. She thinks of the sound of a guitar playing old Beatles songs, of falling in love, of blue hair dye. She thinks of tears and screaming, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I swear I was going to tell you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at Brittany and Sam again, dread pooling at the bottom of her stomach. Their stools are closer than Santana swears they were a few minutes ago. Sam is leaning toward Brittany still, arm coming dangerously close to wrapping around Brittany’s back. Brittany doesn’t seem to make any move to pull away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Santana’s chest fills with </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns her head to send Quinn a nasty glare as she spits out, “Good thing I didn’t start calling her my girlfriend, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, girlfriend?” Finn asks, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana, you don’t know that,” Quinn insists, attempting to calm her best friend down. “She hasn’t even-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana ignores her, tossing back the rest of her drink and letting it burn as it goes down her throat. She slams the glass down much harder than she intended, cutting off Quinn mid-sentence. Right now she doesn’t care, though. Because of course it’d happen again. Of course, the moment Santana lets herself have something that makes her fall so hard, it all gets fucked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did she </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> think she’d stand a chance?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting another drink,” she mutters, abruptly pushing herself out of her chair and stomping her way to the bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not difficult at all to remember why thinking she was in love with Sam was easy in high school. He’s just as sweet and endearing as he was back then, and maybe he’s a little smoother than Brittany remembers. It’s starting to get a little fuzzy with the alcohol.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana is here, so brilliant and soft and sweet. Brittany’s still reeling from Santana’s performance tonight, how she thought Santana couldn’t get any better and yet, the singer somehow went above and beyond. She kind of loves everything about Santana, especially when the brunette’s a little tipsy and holding onto Brittany’s arm when she laughs too hard. Brittany wants to kiss her, wants to tell Sam about how Santana’s basically the </span>
  <em>
    <span>best</span>
  </em>
  <span> person she’s ever come across, but she doesn’t because they still haven’t figured that part of it out yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana’s laugh fades quickly when Sam makes a comment, Brittany notices. And she goes silent when he grabs everyone’s attention. Her smile falters when Brittany laughs at something he says. And sometimes, she and Quinn share a look that Brittany doesn’t understand. It’s something she should pay attention to, but Brittany pushes this aside; she just wants everyone to be together for tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t mean to stray from the rest, but when she and Sam get up to get another round of drinks for themselves, they prop themselves up on the stools as they wait and then, even after the drinks are handed to them, they don’t move. Sam is so into the story he’s telling and Brittany doesn’t want to interrupt, so they stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard, Brittany will admit, not to get wrapped up in her own little world with Sam. They riff of each other easily, seemingly random trains of thought making sense to each other without further explanation. One minute Sam’s telling her about a gnarly injury from his first season of playing college football, the next Brittany’s telling him about touring with Beyonce. It sounds scatter-brained and weird, but that’s how it’s always worked for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s lost in it all until her eyes wander to the table where her friends still sit. Brittany notices almost immediately that Santana has disappeared from the table, her seat empty as the conversation seems to have hit a lull, Finn looking guilty while Quinn and Mercedes sip quietly on their drinks; Mike’s disappeared. Her eyes are immediately scanning the room and she finds Santana at the bar on the other side of the room, somehow looking significantly more drunk than the last time Brittany saw her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost pulls a fond smile from Brittany, unable to help it when she notices how Santana’s starting to squint and her dimples are visible even from across the room. She doesn’t quite make it to a smile because suddenly, she’s watching the bartender lean over the counter with a flirty smile as she pushes Santana her drink. Santana thanks her, that damning smirk on her face and suddenly everything isn’t so fuzzy anymore. The bartender, lean and brunette and </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous,</span>
  </em>
  <span> is too close to Santana for comfort. Brittany can’t hear them but she must throw a line because Santana throws her head back and laughs, and the bartender is wearing a self-satisfied smile before it turns coy as Santana’s eyes meet hers again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a sick feeling in Brittany’s stomach, and she knows it’s not from the alcohol. She’s not the jealous type, she swears - ask Sam, for instance - but she is suddenly very tempted to walk over there and ask what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> that girl thinks she’s doing with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just as quickly as it came, the momentary fire inside of Brittany extinguishes. She remembers, then, that she still doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. She still has no idea what to call Santana other than </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because Santana is so many things to her, but it’s like Santana’s kept her so close yet at arm’s length this whole time. No labels, no serious conversations. Brittany didn’t really think it’d be a problem. She figured they’d be able to talk about it later, but here she is, watching a girl who’s technically</span>
  <em>
    <span> not</span>
  </em>
  <span> her girlfriend get wasted and let the pretty bartender charm her away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s shoulders drop and she feels an ache in her chest. She has no idea if she even has the right to go over there with how casual they’ve always been about this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s consumed them - or at least, consumed Brittany. Santana, now, she’s not so sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I lose you there, Britt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s voice almost startles Brittany. She blinks, turning her gaze back to Sam in front of her. He’s got his brows knitted in a confused way and it would be kind of adorable if Brittany still wasn’t thinking of Santana on the other side of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Brittany shakes her head immediately. “It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes shift again and Quinn is now standing next to Santana, and it looks like they’re bickering. The bartender still hovers close, watching with interest, and Brittany kind of wants to tell her to mind her own business.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s eyes follow her line of sight and lets out a noise of understanding when he sees Quinn and Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we go over there and make sure your friends are okay?” he asks, genuinely concerned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany resists pulling a face at the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She waits and watches until Santana gives Quinn a glare and returns to her drink before shaking her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, they’re kind of...the kind of best friends who bicker all the time,” Brittany explains, forcing herself to look at Sam and offer a half-smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s itching to walk over, to ask what’s going on, but out of the corner of her eye she sees Quinn is sitting next to Santana now and the bartender has disappeared. They seem to be doing that thing where they argue and then just stop the next second so Brittanny relaxes, just a little, and tries to make up for not listening to Sam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(She misses the bartender’s return a few minutes later and how Santana doesn’t stop her from flirting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She misses Quinn starting another argument and Santana turning into a weepy drunk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She most importantly misses Quinn deciding it’s time to leave, dragging Finn out with them.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs a little and shakes his head. “I’m glad we were never those kinds of best friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Brittany teases. “It would’ve made things more interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t think we were interesting?” Sam scoffs, feigning offense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, shaking her head. “Guess you’ll never know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lets out a low chuckle, warm and familiar. His eyes shine when he says, “I’ve really missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too Sam,” she replies almost automatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was her best friend in the whole world for most of her teenage years. It’s hard not to miss someone who watched you grow up. It’s nice, Brittany decides, to have him back in her adult life, too, even if it’s just for a day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Sam starts, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s really good to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany tilts her head, a small smile on her face. “You too, Sam. It’s been pretty long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nods, and maybe they aren’t as close anymore, but Brittany can see the nervousness in his eyes, the way his smile doesn’t make it all the way up. She watches carefully, waiting for Sam’s next words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. And uh...you know, obviously, I came out here to see you perform and stuff,” he goes on, having a hard time keeping his eyes focused on just Brittany. “But uh, I want you to know, I miss you, Brittany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gives him a funny look. “You said that already, like two seconds ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lets out a laugh, but it’s forced and awkward and now Brittany is wondering what on earth is going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I know,” he nods, quirking his lips as his cheeks tint the slightest pink. “But I mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses, tries to find the right words. Brittany’s face is scrunched up in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss us, like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>us.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s eyes finally meet hers. They are nervous and vulnerable and hopeful. The sound of his voice matches, quiet compared to how it was earlier when he was laughing about almost breaking his wrist in a scrimmage. It takes a beat before it clicks in Brittany’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That familiar feeling sinks in her stomach, the one she got way back when she was packing her bags for New York and inevitably leaving Sam behind. For a moment, it feels like Brittany is eighteen and Sam still thinks she’s his whole world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam,” she sighs softly, the sadness clear in her tone. “You’re always going to be so special to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany watches his shoulders sink because he knows that tone. It’s the same one, years ago, Brittany used before leaving him behind. Part of her wishes that she could want him the same way he wants her. Sam Evans is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> guy, but Brittany knows, deep down, she was never in love with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” Sam prompts, looking defeated as he does so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not the girl you’re going to end up with,” Brittany tells him, a sad smile on her face. “You are going to find someone incredible, someone who could give you things I never could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nods in understanding, and Brittany can see he’s trying to keep the crestfallen look off his face. Her heart aches for him, but she knows it’s for the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy you came out to see me, though,” Brittany adds, though she’s not sure if it helps the situation at all. “I did miss you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls the tiniest of smiles and Brittany’s heart warms at the sight. His eyes are still sad, but it’s something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settle into silence for a moment, sipping the last of their drinks that are now nearing empty. Words sit on Brittany’s tongue, and before she can help it they are slipping out of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m kind of seeing someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam raises his eyebrows curiously. There’s no jealousy or animosity, just pure interest and slight surprise in his expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really now?” he asks with a hint of a smile. “Tell me about them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany fiddles with her now empty glass, doing a terrible job of hiding a smile as she says, “You met her, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam gapes, and Brittany can’t help the giggle that escapes her throat. She revels in how easily they fall back to their normal selves, how quickly the wave of sadness and confusion has passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Or, at least, how easily Sam can push down the rejection for the sake of their time together.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Who is it?” he asks, sounding scandalized and intrigued all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany bites her lip, looking at Sam underneath her lashes. Sam looks eager for her answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s jaw actually drops this time and Brittany tries not to look so smug. It takes him a moment, but he finally seems to find her words again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he starts, then leans in conspiratorially. “How did you do it? Because honestly, she kind of scares me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, shaking her head. “She’s a big softie when you get close enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam grins, something melancholy and knowing. “Probably only around you, Britt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gives him a bashful smile, offering only a shrug. She takes a glance at Santana now, but finds that the place where she and Quinn had been earlier is now empty. The brunette bartender is no longer there, either. Her eyes shift to the table the group of the had occupied, only to find it empty as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Sam? I think we just got left behind.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>seriously loved all the comments from my last update! don't worry, I won't keep you waiting any longer now ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brittany spots Quinn at the hotel bar when they make their way back shortly after realizing all their friends had left. She frowns, wondering why Quinn is here and not in her room. She also wonders why Santana isn’t with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hands Sam her hotel room key, insisting he and Finn can crash with her and Mike for the night if they need to before she promises to meet him up there in a little. He nods, heading for the elevator as she approaches Quinn slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn looks up, as if she can sense Brittany coming, and offers the slightest of smiles, something Brittany has learned is a Quinn-way of being invited into her space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Santana?” she asks when she’s close enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In our room,” Quinn answers, sounding exasperated as she takes a sip of her drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer makes something uncomfortable coil in the pit of Brittany’s stomach. She thinks of that random brunette she saw Santana with at the bar. She thinks about the implications of Santana being in their shared room and Quinn here at the hotel bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn must see it on her face because she softens and adds, “Finn’s up there making sure she doesn’t like, puke or pass out or something. He’s always been better at that kind of thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany offers her a small smile, unsure of how to respond. Her stomach eases, and when Quinn nods to the seat next to her, she slides onto it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is she going to be okay?” she asks with a slight frown, concern in her furrowed brows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She did notice at the bar at one point after separating from the group that Santana was throwing back shot after shot, but she hadn’t realized just how much Santana was drinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll be fine,” Quinn promises. “She just drinks a lot sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like there’s more to what Quinn’s said, but the other girl just opts to take another sip of her drink than finish whatever thought it circling in her mind. Brittany sits and watches her, unsure of what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drink?” Quinn asks, nodding at the bartender who’s wiping off some glasses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shakes her head. “Just water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit in silence for a moment outside of Brittany murmuring thanks when the bartender places a glass of water in front of her. Brittany has a feeling there are things Quinn wants to say, and Brittany has questions of her own, but she can’t seem to find the right words to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys never talked about it, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany blinks up in surprise when Quinn breaks their silence, lips twisting in confusion at her question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk about what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dating,” Quinn answers. “Or rather, if you two are dating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Brittany starts, and she’s surprised at how unaffected Quinn seems by the way she answers, like she’s expecting it. “No, it didn’t come up. I just thought...Mercedes told me she doesn’t really open up to people so I didn’t want to scare her or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn nods, lips turning up into a slight smile at Brittany, like she thinks it’s sweet of Brittany to pick up on all the little things about Santana. It feels good, Brittany realizes, to know Santana’s best friend thinks of her this way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She really doesn’t, not usually,” Quinn agrees. “It’s different, though, when it comes to dating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Brittany asks curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft sigh leaves Quinn’s lips. “Santana thinks if she keeps herself closed off, if she doesn’t make something official or real, it can’t hurt her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany listens quietly, surprised Quinn is offering the information out to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a girl,” Quinn continues, looking down at her drink. “Our freshman year at NYU. Her name was Dani.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets out a quiet scoff and shakes her head as she recalls, “I have never really seen Santana like that, you know? She was so into this girl, and it felt like something...good for her. Santana deserves to be happy. She’s been through some shit in high school, you know, coming out and things like that. It was so nice to see her happy and just dating someone without fear or hesitation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods gently, trying to picture a high school version of Santana. She remembers the conversation about her grandmother and being outed. She recalls the cold and distant look in Santana’s eyes as she explained, unable to meet Brittany’s gaze in that moment. It makes her heart ache to know Santana went through some terrible things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They seemed good for each other,” Quinn admits with a shrug. “She worked at this singing diner down the street from NYU and Santana would always drag me down there with her all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes at the memory, something like a fond smile on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dani had this ex,” Quinn explains, her smile fading. “She worked at the diner, too, and they were still good friends. Apparently dated for a really long time, thought they’d be forever at one point. Dani said there were no feelings left there, that they ended it mutually for one reason or another. Santana didn’t have any reason not to believe her, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany frowns a little. She feels like she knows where it’s going, the pieces slowly clicking into place in her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn sighs. “I thought it was weird. Her friend would always subtly flirt when Santana wasn’t paying attention, but Dani never indulged it, so I never said anything. I figured the ex-girlfriend would get the message soon enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she didn’t,” Brittany guesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking back up at Brittany, Quinn shakes her head, a mixture of sadness and anger flashing in her eyes. Brittany’s heart sinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When the semester ended, Santana and I decided we’d go home for a couple of weeks before spending most of our summer in New York,” Quinn tells her. “They were fine when we left. Dani still talked to Santana on the phone pretty regularly while we were back in Ohio.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany hesitantly asks, “What happened when you guys came back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana wanted to surprise Dani at work so we came back a day earlier than we originally planned,” the blonde explains, gaze shifting as if she's seeing it all play out in front of her all over again. “So right as Dani’s shift ended, she headed down to the diner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s jaw works, and the anger is back in her eyes. Brittany can feel her protectiveness over Santana, even after all this time has passed. It makes her dread what comes next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That bitch didn’t even have the audacity to hide it around anyone while we were gone apparently,” Quinn comments bitterly with a shake of her head. “They were behind the counter, clocking out, all close with their hands all over each other. Probably would’ve started making out right then and there had Santana not caused a scene.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany hates how she doesn’t have to ask who Dani was with; she just knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany imagines it in her head - a hurt, angry Santana lashing out. She’s seen glimpses of this side of Santana, but she can’t imagine what it’s like to see her angry side completely take over. Her chest squeezes at the way Santana’s face must have fallen, how her eyes probably hardened with anger fueling her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dani tried to talk her way around it,” Quinn scoffs. “Tried to explain herself as if there was any other way to put it then the fact she was very much not over her ex and had blatantly cheated on Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something flares up in Brittany’s chest. She’s suddenly angry at a girl she’s never met, someone who had the world in Santana but decided that wasn’t enough. It’s kind of irrational, she knows, but Brittany doesn’t care. She hates this Dani girl like Quinn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany also understands Santana’s attitude today. The way her smile dropped when Sam spoke, how she pulled away when Sam was near. She gets it, the way Santana feels the deja vu creeping up on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She hasn’t been the same when it comes to dating since,” Quinn sighs, shoulders dropping. “Nothing’s been serious, not since that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany deflates a little in her seat, this new insight sinking in. She gets it now, why Santana has cleverly avoided the topic. She understands the careful ease Santana carries when it comes to the concept of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her chest tightens then, and panic strikes her - is she just another one of Santana’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not serious</span>
  </em>
  <span> things? Was it just going to be an on tour fling before Santana eventually pulled away?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn must read the conflict on her face because her voice softens when she says, “It’s different with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes snap back to her. Quinn is looking at her curiously, that hint of a smile back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You terrify her, Brittany,” she informs Brittany. “What you two have? It’s real and it frightens her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany blinks, trying to process what Quinn’s just said. It’s almost like a feeling of validation, that this whole thing about falling for Santana is clear as day to everyone else, like she hasn’t just made up everything in her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t - Sam wasn’t - I mean he was but I wasn’t - I would never - I care about her so much,” Brittany stammers out, all her thoughts attempting to leave her brain at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard getting her message across when there are about a thousand things she wants to say. But she knows that Quinn isn’t the one who needs to hear any of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn smiles, leaning over and squeezing Brittany’s arm. “I know, Britt. I think you need to tell her that, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany lets out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in. Quinn’s touch is reassuring, like everything’s going to be okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” she nods, trying to focus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The door to our hotel room should be propped open,” Quinn tells her with a knowing look paired with a smirk. “Her patience for Finn is probably wearing down by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany lets out a soft chuckle at that, nodding again. She slides out of her seat and meets Quinn’s gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Quinn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn only smiles, eyes lighting up with something like understanding as she offers a small nod. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>I don’t need to be babied, especially by you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana glares at Finn from her bed where she’s changed into an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts. She’s been glaring at him since Quinn left them in here, disappearing to who knows where. Santana’s also sobered up quite a bit by now, but honestly she just feels exhausted and wishes Finn would leave so she can sit and sulk in brooding silence before sleep eventually takes over. But Finn is moving around her and Quinn’s hotel room with ease, ignoring her mostly as he makes himself busy by pouring Santana yet another glass of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He has already forced her to drink one whole glass of water after she changed into her pajamas and had even found her makeup wipes in the bathroom, handing them over when she had seemingly calmed down enough to not toss her glass of water at his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s annoying, really, how Finn has so much patience for her.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anger in her chest has subsided, though it’s still there. She knows, deep down, she isn’t actually mad at Finn - or even Brittany, really - but she always seems to have to channel it </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Finn just happens to be the most readily available target.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Quinn left me on Santana duty,” Finn explains to her patiently as he makes his way to the edge of the bed, handing over a newly filled glass of water. “And I’m not leaving you alone, especially after you got to your weepy drunk phase back there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives him a hard eye roll paired with a scoff before she’s taking the glass out of his hands, careful not to spill it on the sheets. She kind of hates how she gives herself away like that, crying like an idiot when she’s just had way too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you just the sweetest?” she deadpans, her voice dripping with sarcasm before she takes a sip. “I can’t imagine why Quinn would </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> let a guy like you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Quinn didn’t, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Finn that ended it both times they dated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana doesn’t care, really. She gets mean when she’s hurting. Finn knows that better than anyone, figured it out much too late senior year after words flew out in the middle of a crowded hallway and couldn’t be taken back.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn ignores her jab, not even bothering to correct her - he’s gotten good at ignoring her insults over the years, thank god - and just watches her drink her water. They sit in silence for a moment, Santana begrudgingly drinking the water and Finn tapping his foot against the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s about to tell him to knock it off when he finally speaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” he starts, breaking the silence. “You and Brittany, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s face immediately turns into a scowl despite her cheeks flushing at Finn’s question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not your business, Finnocence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hopes he drops it, but god, sometimes Finn just can’t read the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe he can and chooses to ignore the signs - which, in that case, what a little shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn hides a smirk at the blush spreading on Santana’s cheeks. He shrugs, “I mean, I think she’s cool. And she’s a super good dancer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks of Brittany for a moment, remembers how she was still with Sam at the bar when Quinn pulled Santana out. She wonders if they’re still there now or if they left; honestly, she isn’t sure which option makes her feel better. Her chest aches uncomfortably, anger and resentment rising back up through her at the thought of Sam and Brittany together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, so does your large-lipped friend, apparently,” Santana snarks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of Sam, Finn’s shoulders drop. “He’s a good guy, Santana. If he or even I had any idea that you guys were-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t need to hear this from you right now,” Santana snaps, growing irritated with Finn’s presence in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana,” he frowns. “I’m just trying to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well don’t,” she cuts in, glaring at him. “You and Quinn might still be somewhat friends, but you have no idea what my life is like. So just butt out, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not trying to hurt you or pry,” Finn tells her quietly. “I’m just...I’m here for you, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s backing down now, Santana notices. She knows he’s learned his lesson, learned what happens when he pushes Santana’s buttons and lets her words get to him. Finn looks at her like he’s trying to help and yeah, Santana’s always known deep down that Finn cares about her, but it doesn’t make it any less scary to know he knows when she’s vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And anyway, it’s not his shit to deal with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t ask for you to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words come out harsher than she intends, but it’s too late to take them back. Finn kind of looks like a kicked puppy, but he seems to understand and doesn’t try to speak again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not his fault, she knows, but something about the dumb lump trying to make it all right just isn’t helping. She doesn’t need one of his emotional speeches or heart-to-heart moments right now. What she needs is-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door is pushed open, interrupting Santana’s thoughts, and Brittany is there, dressed in pink pajama shorts and a t-shirt. She looks hesitant as she enters, but she still shoots both Santana and Finn a small smile. Santana isn’t sure what to think of her sudden appearance. Part of her wants to ice Brittany out, another part of Santana craves her touch. She doesn’t commit to either just yet, though, opting to look at Brittany with a blank expression instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she starts, looking at Santana. “I - uh, Quinn told me you were up here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes flicker to Finn for a moment before settling on Santana again, nervous and unsure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s stomach twists in an uncomfortable way. She can’t read Brittany’s nervous expression at the moment, unable to tell if this is a good thing or a bad thing. The cynic in Santana tells her the worst is coming, but there’s still the smallest ounce of hope that it’s not. Brittany is here at </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> door and not anywhere else with anyone else. That has to mean something, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks to Finn, who looks between the two of them awkwardly. She resists rolling her eyes, instead giving him a pointed look and nodding towards the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” he says suddenly, nodding at Santana’s gesture. “I’ll uh, I’ll go find Quinn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes everything in Santana not to face palm at his reaction. God, Finn definitely isn’t the king of subtlety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s at the bar down in the lobby,” Brittany supplies, offering him a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana holds in a snort. Of course Quinn decided to go drink some more and let Finn deal with her mess of a best friend. Honestly, she can’t even blame her. Quinn’s had more than enough of her share dealing with drunk, weepy Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles at her, that stupid, dorky grateful smile, and makes his way out the door as he says, “Thanks Brittany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods, stepping into the room as he walks out and closes the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany hovers awkwardly by the door, like she doesn’t know her place. Santana feels her chest tighten; it’s weird to feel nervous when she’s alone with Brittany again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys left so quickly,” Brittany starts, probably to fill the silence. “I was worried something happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, at least Brittany didn’t see her weepy stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quinn decided I had enough for tonight,” Santana says with a scoff. “And then forced lumps out there to stay here with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, just a little, at Santana’s irritated twitch of her lips and her uncanny ability to slide an insult into any sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re okay, though?” she asks, slight concern in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Santana thinks she has no right, not when Brittany actively spent all night with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she snaps, shrinking into herself a bit. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she’s surprised by Santana’s suddenly cold attitude, Brittany doesn’t show it. She tilts her head curiously, but she doesn’t seem bothered at all by Santana’s question. “Why would I be with Sam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Felt a lot like you two were very busy rekindling an old flame tonight,” Santana accuses, looking away. “I mean, you two basically disappeared halfway through, anyway. He’s been looking at you like a helpless puppy all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Brittany can see it, the hurt of something so painfully familiar in Santana’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can see Santana’s heart feeling like it’s about to break all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana doesn’t notice the understanding on her face, doesn’t even look at her at all.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana hears movement and assumes Brittany is walking towards the bed. She still doesn’t look at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not getting back together with Sam,” Brittany states simply. “I told him that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana risks looking up at her again. Brittany is a few feet away now, pretty blue eyes focused only on her. She feels the hope rise in her chest, the emotion taking hold of her before she can shove it back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” she asks, feeling impossibly small.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why not? He’s right there. He’s perfect, like all those stupid teen movies.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s lips quirk up into something like a small smile as she moves closer, “Because I’m seeing someone else, someone I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> into.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can only stare at her, unable to do much else. She feels the hope expanding, like a balloon inside of her, and she has to fight the urge to push it </span>
  <em>
    <span>down, down, down.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because Brittany is looking at her with bright eyes, like what she says is true. She looks at her like Santana is the best sight she’s seen, even when she looks like she’s had a rough night at the bar. Even when the jealousy and a deep insecurity is flaming in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told him that, by the way,” Brittany adds when Santana doesn’t say anything, slowly taking a seat only a foot or so away from Santana on the bed. “That I’m seeing you. I hope you don’t mind. I know we never talked about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks down at her lap and the now empty glass in her hand. Something like guilt and frustration builds inside of her. Guilt because she knows Brittany’s been nothing but patient with her, letting her kiss her instead of asking what </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is. Frustration because she gets in her own head so often. There is also the slightest bit of warmth that fills her, to know Brittany told someone about her, about </span>
  <em>
    <span>them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind,” she mumbles, still refusing to meet Brittany’s gentle gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like too much, like Brittany can see everything inside of her right now. Like Brittany can see all her thoughts laid out in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quinn told me about Dani.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the name, Santana’s gaze snaps back up to meet Brittany’s. Her eyes are soft and unassuming. There is sadness mixed in there, and it stirs something in Santana’s chest that she can’t quite explain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finds she isn’t even mad at Quinn for telling Brittany, not when Brittany doesn’t throw her a look of pity. There is only an understanding in her eyes that seemingly no one else quite gives her when they find out. Like she understands the aftermath, now that she has the missing piece of the puzzle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana still shrinks into herself, feels so small when she thinks about it all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she manages. “Well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing comes next because Santana has no idea how to continue. She has no idea how to say all the things inside of her, to explain all the anger and hurt and disappointment. She can’t figure out how to explain to Brittany that it isn’t her, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> been about Brittany. It’s about Santana and her own fucked up tendencies to shut everything out since Dani.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t promise you that I’ll be perfect,” Brittany admits in the space between them. “But I would never ever do anything to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something catches in Santana’s chest. It might be the way Brittany’s eyes are on her, steady and sure. It might be the honesty dripping from Brittany’s words. It might even be the way Brittany leans forward as she says it, her presence still as intoxicating as it was that first day. Whatever it is, it makes Santana’s heart thump a little harder against her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is all kinds of terrified and curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you be so sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She asks because she has to know. She asks because she is so afraid that she’s making all of this up, that she’s reading it all wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s lips curve up into her adorable, lopsided smile. Her eyes shine when she answers, “Because I am falling so hard for you, Santana. And I hope we don’t end when this tour does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her name falls like a sweet sigh off of Santana’s lips. She looks at Brittany with wide eyes, endearing and adoring, like she can’t quite believe the girl in front of her is real. And part of Santana actually can’t believe it, but Brittany is here sitting across from Santana, telling her that everything between them is </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>real, that Santana wasn’t foolishly hoping or falling too fast. Something sweet lights up in Brittany’s eyes at the sound of her name and Santana can’t help reaching out to caress her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope we don’t either,” Santana admits in a whisper, her voice a little hoarse. “I want this...I want this <em>with you,</em> even after this tour ends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany practically melts under her touch and at her words, hand reaching to hold Santana’s against her cheek. She bites her lip in that impossibly adorable way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs a little, eyes shining as she nods. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany breaks out into a full smile now, wide and excited. Santana feels her chest swell with adoration as the blonde takes her hand resting on Brittany’s cheek and pulls it away to press a soft kiss against the smooth skin across the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I have something very important to ask you,” Brittany says, feigning seriousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes are light and playful, and it makes Santana giddy, the way Brittany can’t stop looking at her in this way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she nods, trying to match Brittany’s serious tone, but she’s fighting a smile the whole way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you, Santana Lopez, be my girlfriend?” Brittany asks, looking at Santana under her long lashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can see Brittany’s lip twitch, a telltale sign she’s trying to hold back a smile. She giggles softly, pulling their hands towards her gently, which tugs the rest of Brittany’s body along with her. Brittany lets out a noise of surprise, using her other hand to steady herself on the bed, but she’s grinning as she hovers in front of Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a yes?” Brittany teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smiles, eyes bright as she shyly admits, “I would love to be your girlfriend, Britt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches as Brittany’s entire face lights up at her response, and her insides fill with so much warmth she’s pretty sure she could burst right here, right now. It’s intense, this feeling that consumes her when Brittany looks at her like this, but she finds she isn’t afraid of it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Brittany breathes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a dorky response, but Santana finds herself falling a little more, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany leans in, capturing Santana’s lips with hers sweetly. Santana kisses her back eagerly, meeting her halfway. Brittany tastes like toothpaste, but the sweetness that Santana can still only really describe as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany</span>
  </em>
  <span> is still there, and that’s all that matters. Santana’s hands are coming up to hold her face as Brittany’s slide down to grip at her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets herself be guided down on her back, Brittany coming up above her now. They make out for what feels like hours, tangling into the sheets but never quite losing any clothes. Santana finds she doesn’t mind, though. Brittany is purposeful in the way she kisses, gentle yet firm in a way that tells Santana she’s not going anywhere. It’s only when Santana pulls away and lets out a quiet yawn that Brittany chuckles softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should sleep,” Brittany suggests, her hand still slipped underneath Santana’s shirt and running her fingers soothingly along the skin of her waist. “It’s been a long day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes flutter closed again at the feeling of Brittany’s touch. She pauses for a moment and then, “Stay with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she opens her eyes, Brittany is looking at her curiously, a hint of a sleepy smile on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course honey,” she murmurs, and Santana’s stupid heart flutters at the response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They crawl under the sheets of Santana’s bed lazily after reaching over to switch the light off. Brittany is immediately reaching an arm out to wrap around Santana’s waist and pull her in close. The sudden motion makes Santana chuckle softly, but she rests her head against Brittany’s chest comfortably. There’s a press kissed into her hair and a soft sigh that follows, and Santana smiles into Brittany’s shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here, in the safety of Brittany’s arms, Santana has no trouble sleeping at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s here, and she’s not going anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(When Quinn finally returns to their room not too long after, she finds them both sound asleep and curled into each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She softens at the sight, smiling and </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> snapping a photo to show Mercedes and Mike in the morning.)</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all Brittany comprehends when she wakes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes her a moment, but then she realizes that she’s warm because there is a body pressed against her. There are legs tangled between hers and a hand underneath her t-shirt, fingers grazing the skin at the base of her back with every inhale. Eyes still closed, Brittany’s lips turn up into a smile when she recalls it’s Santana in her arms, against her chest. Santana’s hair tickles the spot between her neck and her jaw, and Brittany’s smile widens, the arm hanging loosely around Santana’s waist tugging her closer. Santana stirs a little, but she stills, exhaling softly against Brittany’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany keeps her eyes closed, and she remembers the long-winded events of last night. She thinks, mostly, of how Santana had looked at her, with wide and hopeful eyes. How her name sounded like a prayer falling off Santana’s lips, like she’d been waiting for Brittany for so long. She’s left a little breathless at the memory of just how much emotion Santana’s eyes can hold, how much adoration was in them as she realized what was happening in the moment. She grins like an idiot when she remembers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is her </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought makes Brittany giddy and suddenly she’s very much awake. Santana sleeps soundly in her arms, but Brittany can’t wipe the stupid grin off her face. She opens her eyes now, letting them adjust to the dim light of the morning. It’s not like they’re doing anything different now - no, not at all, but it’s just the simple fact that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>there,</span>
  </em>
  <span> out in the open with no room for uncertainty or vague interpretation. Santana Lopez is her girlfriend and Brittany still can’t quite wrap her head around it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An alarm goes off on the far side of the room, and it’s only then that Brittany remembers that Santana actually shares her hotel room. It goes silent a moment later, and Brittany figures that Quinn had returned long after she and Santana fell asleep last night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet for a moment and then a harsh, “Santana, wake the fuck up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany holds in a chuckle, shifting so she can squint to see Quinn on her own bed. The other blonde is still laying in bed, phone in hand. Her tired face shifts into a soft smile and knowing gaze when she sees Brittany. Brittany gives her a bashful smile in return, realizing that Quinn has quickly figured out how the rest of their night went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Britt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Quinn,” Brittany replies softly, a hint of sleep still in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s eyes then narrow at Santana’s figure, which hasn’t moved at all since Brittany woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana makes a small noise that resembles a grunt before burrowing herself further into Brittany’s embrace, her face pressed up against the blonde’s neck. Quinn rolls her eyes and shakes her head, turning her attention back to her phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany lets out a soft chuckle at the scene playing out before her, running a hand up and down Santana’s back slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Brittany hums sweetly. “We need to get out of bed soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a noise of protest, her hand coming up to grip the fabric of Brittany’s t-shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re both too loud,” she grumbles against Brittany’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn doesn’t even look up from her phone as she replies, “It’s not my fault you’re hungover.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Q.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It comes out muffled and weak, and Brittany cant help the laughter that escapes her in response. Santana pulls away from her neck to glare at her, eyes still practically closed. Brittany’s laughter dissolves into a smile before she leans down enough to press a kiss to Santana’s forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning San,” she greets, cheeky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s glare holds up for another minute before she lets out a scoff, but Brittany sees the smile she’s trying so hard to fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so lucky you’re cute,” she tells Brittany, her expression softening despite her attempt to sound annoyed. “Morning, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany visibly brightens at her greeting, and for a moment they just smile at each other. Santana’s eyes are barely open, but they are happy and light as she looks at Brittany like she’s the best sight to wake up to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to shower,” Quinn announces, sliding out of bed and effectively bringing their attention back. “When I get out you better at least be out of bed, Santana. There’s ibuprofen on your nightstand, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Santana deadpans, settling her head into her pillow so she can face Brittany. “Leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn lets out a snort, then shifts her attention to Brittany. “Make sure she takes that or else we’re going to be dealing with a nightmare all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted,” Brittany nods, a soft smirk pulling at her lips as Santana makes a noise of protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn disappears into the bathroom after collecting a few things on her side of the room and Brittany shifts her attention back to Santana, who seems slightly less grumpy and also a bit more awake. She’s gazing at Brittany under dark lashes and looking like maybe she doesn’t totally hate the entire world this morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi again,” Brittany murmurs as she settles back into her own pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a small smile. “Hey you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your hangover really that bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a soft sigh. “My head is killing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany frowns at that, leaning up to reach over Santana and grab the ibuprofen Quinn had so generously left out for her best friend and the glass of water she also apparently filled up last night before poking at Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Up,” she instructs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana chuckles softly at her request, but she does as she’s told. She is slow to move and closes her eyes for most of it, but the pill goes down with some water and Brittany is satisfied she’s completed the one task Quinn’s given her before they are back to being snuggled into the pillows, close enough for hands to drift under t-shirts and ankles to hook around calves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice,” Santana hums after a while when her eyes close at the patterns Brittany’s fingertips trace across her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is?” Brittany asks curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waking up to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes are still closed, but her lips turn up into the softest of smiles, and Brittany can’t help the way she melts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smirks, moving her hand up to tuck some stay hair behind Santana’s ear. “You tell that to all the girls?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes open at the question, and her eyes shine when she responds, “No, just my girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s face breaks out into a grin at her response, laughter in her throat. She loves getting to see this side of Santana, the one who is a total cheeseball. The dorky side that comes out when she’s relaxed and happy and not worried about anything at all. Something in Brittany thumps rapidly when she remembers that even after this tour ends, this thing with Santana won’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was bad, wasn’t it?” Santana asks a moment later, making a face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany giggles, leaning over and kissing her softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I liked it,” she promises against Santana’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana scoffs in disbelief, shoving lightly at Brittany’s shoulder. “Whatever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did!” Brittany insists, but she’s laughing again and Santana only gives her an exasperated yet fond look and it all feels kind of right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are still in bed when Quinn exits the bathroom later, all freshly showered and looking like she’s ready to take on the world. After some bickering between her and Santana, it’s Brittany who’s finally able to pull the singer out of bed, pressing kisses all over her face and promising to take her out to dinner in their next city later that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Date night?” Santana asks, voice light and teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Date night,” Brittany confirms without missing a beat, expression turning sweet. “With my girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is satisfied with the answer as she rolls out of bed, her entire face looking bright and excited and happy, something Brittany’s seen more of these past few weeks. It’s a look that Brittany doesn’t really see Santana use on anyone else, and that fact alone makes her feel all tingly all over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re basically a miracle worker,” Quinn jokes as she watches Santana dig through her suitcase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs and Santana tosses a shirt at Quinn, who catches it easily with an unimpressed look back at Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally leaves their room, after kissing Santana goodbye and a smug smirk from Quinn, she walks into her own hotel room to find Sam, Finn and Mike spread out around the room eating bagels. She figures out quickly that Sam and Finn crashed in here for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey guys,” she greets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Britt!” Sam greets around a mouthful of bagels. “We got you a breakfast bagel, don't worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got Quinn and Santana one too,” Finn adds, a smile on his face. “But we didn’t know if you guys were up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles. “Thanks guys, that’s really sweet of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to look at Mike, who is suspiciously quiet. He’s looking at her with that same look he had weeks ago in Seattle and she already knows what’s coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep well with your girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a question at all, and Brittany knows it. She watches him grow smug as the inevitable smile spread across her face and her cheeks flush at the word <em>girlfriend.</em> She glances at Sam and Finn, who both seem to be catching on to Mike’s statement. Sam’s smiling at Brittany, familiar and genuine. Finn grins, too, though he probably already had a feeling after essentially being kicked out of Santana’s hotel room last night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany doesn’t trust herself to not say something totally dumb, so she just nods, biting her lip to stop the smile from growing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, finally!” Mike exclaims, jumping out of his seat and practically tackling Brittany into a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah!” Brittany laughs, accepting the hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy for you guys,” Mike tells hers earnestly as he pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes shine when she says, “Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally make their way to the lobby, Finn quickly approaches Quinn and a somewhat still hungover Santana - she’s wearing sunglasses inside, but other than that she looks much livelier than this morning - with the bagels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m happy for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s voice takes Brittany’s attention away from the three friends. She finds Sam next to her, hands in his pockets and a shy smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know, you and Santana, I mean,” he adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes are soft and Brittany knows he means it, can see the genuine happiness even though twenty-four hours ago, he’d come here hoping for a completely different outcome. She smiles, giving his arm a squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Sam,” she grins before they join the rest of their friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite her eyes being hidden by sunglasses, Brittany still recognizes the way Santana’s eyes light up as she approaches. She leans in and kisses her cheek softly when she’s close enough, wrapping an arm around her waist as Santana eats her bagel. Santana leans into her comfortably, and Sam watches them with a slight smile, intrigued at this new relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This bagel doesn’t get you off my shit list,” Santana tells Finn, and Brittany isn’t quite sure if she’s joking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She means thank you,” Quinn tells him with a roll of her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn seems to think so too because he only chuckles softly. “You’re welcome, Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes joins them at some point, giving a pointed look at Brittany and Santana. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning you guys, everybody sleep well?” she asks, but she’s looking directly at the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a scoff, feigning annoyance while Brittany only shoots her a smug smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slept great, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know,” Mercedes smirks. “I’m sure you both did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s brows furrow at her comment and she immediately whips her head around. “Quinn!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn shrugs, unbothered by the loud accusation in so little words. “You guys looked cute while you were sleeping, what can I say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana grumbles something unintelligible under her breath, but Brittany only chuckles as she tugs her closer and presses a kiss to the top of Santana’s head. Santana softens immediately, but she’s still wearing a scowl to fool everyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, almost everyone. Brittany watches as Mercedes and Quinn look at each other, Quinn mouthing </span>
  <em>
    <span>whipped</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her friend. Brittany holds back a snort at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay there in the lobby until Mercedes’ team is telling everyone to start loading up the bus. Everyone starts saying their goodbyes, and Finn hugs Brittany like they’re friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem good for Santana,” he tells her quietly, a half-smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s chest swells. “I hope so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives her one last smile and a nod before he’s moving on to Santana, who makes a big deal about resisting his hug until he’s finally pulling her into a bone-crushing one that Santana reluctantly accepts. Brittany laughs, but her attention is pulled away when Sam is in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for coming,” she tells him again. “It’s so good to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too, Brittany,” he replies, then glances at Santana before he adds, “I’m rooting for this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany beams, unable to help herself. “I think I am too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hug goodbye before they’re parting ways and Santana is once again at Brittany’s side, hand slipping into hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She lets herself get tugged onto the bus, practically falling into Santana’s lap when she’s pulled down into her seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Santana squeals, playfully shoving at Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany doesn’t budge, looking up at Santana with a playful grin. “Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s expression grows warm, a soft smile forming when she looks at Brittany. She doesn’t say anything else, just leans down and kisses Brittany sweetly, and Brittany smiles against her lips, and she can’t think of a more perfect situation than this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doing what she loves with her </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This is hands down the best summer Santana’s ever had in her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s touring and singing her some of her own songs, her best friend is by her side </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’s got the most incredible girlfriend in the world? Yeah, she can’t think of anything else that comes close to beating this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s wanted this for so long and has hoped something would work out for her to let her perform and sing and do everything she loves. Now that she’s getting a taste, it’s almost laughable that she was genuinely considering doing an internship of some sort this summer before Mercedes had called her up. She can’t imagine herself doing anything else now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cities blur together, names escaping Santana, but she remembers the way the crowd screams for her, the increase of people who know the words to her songs. She remembers the way Brittany makes her feel, and the mornings in hotel rooms and then the coffee shop visits with Quinn. She remembers the game nights with their friends in one hotel room or another and the post-show trips to the bars, Brittany holding her close and looking at her like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s the Columbus, Ohio show ever present in their schedule, coming up sooner than Santana realizes. Maybe a week out, Mercedes pulls Santana, Mike and Brittany in a meeting with their tour manager and choreographer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Mercedes starts, a big smile on her face. “As y’all know, Santana and I are from Ohio. Now, I know we’re not from Columbus, but it’s the closest venue the tour company could get to Lima, so it’s basically counting as one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a snort, opening her mouth to argue that Columbus is </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Lima, but Mercedes nudges her so she resists sharing the comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s so fun,” Brittany comments, grinning at Mercedes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes returns the smile before she continues, “So, I thought since it’s a special one, we’d add a number to Santana’s set and mine, something from our show choir days for fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We think it’d be a great play for all your friends and family at the show,” the tour manager nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana perks up at that, eyeing Mercedes curiously. “What are you thinking of doing, Wheezy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nerd,” Brittany teases softly, squeezing Santana’s knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes fondly, giving Brittany a look that doesn’t look threatening at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> - god, is she losing her touch? - before she turns her attention back to Mercedes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Mercedes grins widely. “I was going to pick our duet from junior year for my set. I think we both killed that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah we did!” Santana nods approvingly. “Do I get to pick mine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes shrugs. “If you want, but I was thinking...Valerie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana blinks, unsure. “Well, I mean I loved doing that song, but that’s a solo. You...you picked a duet for yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes leans over squeezing Santana’s hand on the table. “These people deserve to see you shine, Santana. And that song? That’s the first time all of us in glee club really realized how much talent you had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the back of her mind, Santana can see that performance all over again. She remembers the slight fear, the nerves in her system. Both she and Quinn were getting the spotlight that day - a first in their show choir careers, at least. She knew she’d wanted to do this for so long, but to finally have it happen - well, what if she fucked it all up?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she hadn’t, and they’d loved her, and Santana had never felt more free yet so in control than when she was on that stage. And they’d won, of course, why wouldn’t they? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was also talking to Brittany,” Mercedes adds, and Santana turns to look at her girlfriend, surprised. “And she thinks she and Mike can come up with some choreography to go with Valerie, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany looks humble and sweet, but there’s excitement in her eyes when she looks at Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mercedes showed me the performance,” Brittany explains, smiling shyly, and Santana barely has the time to feel embarrassed about it before the blonde continues, “You were so amazing, even back then. I just thought we could add something to make it more special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana just about melts on the spot at this new information. Brittany S. Pierce is literally prepared to drop everything and come up with a whole new number just for a song that Santana will sing for only one night. God, she’s really got the best girlfriend in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany,” Santana sighs contentedly, eyes growing soft. “You don’t have to do all of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to,” Brittany promises, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> want to,” Mike chimes in, leaning over Brittany’s shoulder to shoot Santana a grin. “It’ll be totally awesome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s chest swells at this, at Mike and his support, at Brittany’s kind heart, at Mercedes’ belief in her. It’s almost all too much to comprehend at once, but right now, in this room, all she feels is love and support of people she’s really come to care about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes settle on Brittany again and she nods. “Okay, let’s do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Brittany repeats, her whole face beginning to light up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs, nodding again. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany lets out an excited squeal before she’s pulling Santana into a hug. Santana barely registers Mercedes’ clap of approval or Mike’s fist pump, too caught up in the feeling of Brittany. She doesn’t bother wiping the grin off her face; in fact, it only grows when Brittany pulls away and beams at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is gonna be awesome,” Brittany promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is,” Santana smirks. “You’re a genius, Brittany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes gloss over with something akin to appreciation and something softer, and Santana’s just about ready to burst. Brittany looks at her like she’s never heard someone say that before, like it’s still impossible to believe that she’s so incredibly good at what she does. And Santana wishes there was a way to just help Brittany understand no one dances like her, no one understands the way her body moves to the beat, how incredibly intuitive she is at all of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s moments like these, where Santana can remind her, rightfully so, that she knows this better than anyone, that makes it better. It’s moments like these, where Brittany looks at her with all the pride in the world, that make Santana fall for Brittany all over again. She’ll tell Brittany she’s a genius every day if she has to, and she’ll mean it every single time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that it’s set: River Deep, Mountain High for Mercedes’ set and Valerie for Santana’s set. It’s funny, she thinks, how nostalgic those songs make her feel now. But it’s like a breath of fresh air, especially when she’s being pulled into extra rehearsal sessions. The choreography is </span>
  <em>
    <span>entirely</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany for Santana’s song, and Santana is so damn proud of her it’s hard not to talk about it all the time - seriously, Quinn throws a pillow at her at one point. Her days are longer and her body is tired, but knowing she’ll get to do this song in front of her parents, with Mike and Brittany by her side, is more than enough to make it worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Santana knows it, they’re in her home state. She’s technically an hour and a half away from Lima, but even as she walks through the airport in Columbus, Ohio, it still feels like she’s coming home. She knows she’s not the only one when she looks over at Quinn and sees something like nostalgia in her eyes. Quinn hates Ohio, swore she’d never be a Lima loser like so many people they knew, but being back here right now, it feels like all the things they both hated so much about their stupid home are so far away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like a familiar breath of fresh air, one that Santana wasn’t expecting. Mercedes joins them a moment later, eyes shining in a way Santana knows all too well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home, y’all,” she grins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn chuckles softly with a shake of her head. “I don’t know if I’d call this place home anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes nudges her knowingly. “Come on, Quinn. We had some good memories here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Santana pipes up with a smirk. “Like when Mercedes almost missed our flight to nationals junior year at this very airport.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kurt’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault!” Mercedes defends with a groan. “I’ve told you a hundred times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure it was,” Santana hums, unconvinced and amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn shakes her head at Santana while Mercedes gives her an unimpressed look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes’ team - at the insistence of Mercedes herself, of course - had planned for a full day off before the show instead of after, giving the singer time to spend as much time with her family as possible. Quinn and Santana have similar plans, and when Santana had called her parents to let them know, her mother had immediately demanded Brittany join her as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana had blushed furiously but nodded anyway, her eyes sparkling at the concept of showing Brittany her hometown. Even with its flaws, Lima, Ohio has somehow managed to worm its way into her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“You parents want to meet me?” Brittany had asked when Santana brought it up the other day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nodded shyly, biting her lip when she responded, “Uh - um, yeah. I told them...you know, that you’re my girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, she doesn’t stop talking about you,” Quinn piped up from the opposite side of the room, eyes not leaving her laptop. “You take up more than half her conversations with her mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana turned, scowling as she tried to stop the flush of her cheeks. “Are you even listening to anything with those headphones or are you just eavesdropping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn only made a face at her, but didn’t respond before turning her attention back to her laptop. Santana let out a scoff and when she turned back to Brittany, her expression had grown soft, regarding Santana with a look she couldn’t quite place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You talk to your mom about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She asked in a voice that was both giddy and honored and adoring, and Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> couldn’t stop her cheeks from flushing then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - uh, I mean - yeah, you’re…” she stuttered profusely, attempting to come up with something that </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound totally lame - which, let’s face it, gushing about your new girlfriend to your mom is kind of lame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany had saved her the trouble though, letting out a sweet giggle before tugging Santana into her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I talk to mine about you too,” she admitted softly, eyes shining. “Like, all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always,” Brittany had promised, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I would love to meet your parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes grew wide and filled with adoration, and she couldn’t stop the smile from growing on her face. Another kiss, this time to her cheek, was all the confirmation she needed.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this is where </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> Santana Lopez is from, huh?” Brittany murmurs into her ear, wrapping her arms around Santana from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs, falling back against her. “Don’t get too excited now. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ohio.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs softly, chin resting against Santana’s shoulder as she replies, “Yeah, but it’s your home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess so.” Santana relents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(But when she closes her eyes, she thinks of New York and busy streets and NYU and - now - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the midst of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles.)</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s been to Ohio a handful of times on various tours and projects and such. However, this time around, she’s actually really excited to be here. It’s special, of course, because it’s where Mercedes, Santana and Quinn are from, but it’s more than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s spending their off day with Santana and </span>
  <em>
    <span>her parents.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany has met many of her previous girlfriends’ and boyfriends’ parents, and - not to brag or anything, but - she’s like a total charmer when it comes to meeting parents. They always love her for one reason or another. It’s not that she’s nervous she won’t make a good impression, it’s just that…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Brittany’s pretty sure she’s never liked anyone as much as she’s liked Santana and that thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, so she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t want to mess this up - any of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re set to meet Santana’s parents for lunch at the Lopez household, Santana’s father being able to slip away from his job as a doctor long enough to see his daughter. There’s something alight in Santana’s eyes when they make it to Lima, and Brittany smiles because she recognizes that feeling of being back in your hometown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana notices Brittany’s hesitance though as they approach the house, turning to her girlfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” she asks, pausing to look carefully at Brittany. “Are you nervous right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Brittany insists, immediately shaking her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Santana sees right through her, something she’s been getting incredibly good at lately, and laughs softly, tugging Brittany’s hand to pull her closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents are going to love you,” she promises as her other hand reaches up to smooth a few stray hairs from Brittany’s face. “You have nothing to worry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shrugs, not quite meeting Santana’s eyes. “I know, I just don’t want to screw it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana visibly melts right there, biting her lip in that stupidly adorable way as she looks up at Brittany with those pretty brown eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t if you tried,” Santana assures her, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss against Brittany’s lips for just a moment before pulling away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something inside of Brittany settles, and Santana is still looking at her with those big eyes that expect nothing and appreciate everything when it comes to Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she nods, offering a tiny smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana grins, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her cheek before she’s tugging Brittany into the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom! Dad!” she calls, and there’s something so inexplicably giddy about the way she speaks. “I’m home!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana drops both their bags for the night by the staircase. Brittany lets herself be tugged along by her girlfriend, taking in the entryway and the living room. It feels so clean and organized yet so lived in, like Brittany can picture a high school Santana right there on the couch. There are a few family portraits and a number of various childhood photos of Santana on the walls. Brittany smiles at a photo of Santana and Quinn in their cheerleading uniforms, laughing as they face each other, a huge trophy in between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana leads her into the dining room, where Santana’s mother is setting the last of the plates. Her mother looks up, eyes crinkling at the corners as a smile spreads on her face. She looks like an older, shorter version of Santana, beautiful and aging gracefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Santana,” she smiles, making her way around the table to her daughter. “Welcome home, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mija.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand slips out of Brittany’s, wrapping her arms around her mother in a tight hug as she breathes out, “Hi </span>
  <em>
    <span>mami.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany watches the interaction with a smile, taking in everything about Santana’s home and her mother. Mrs. Lopez hugs her daughter tight, so full of love that it fills Brittany with joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana pulls away from her mother then, and though she can’t quite see her, Brittany can just tell she’s wearing a big smile. Mrs. Lopez’s eyes shift past her to Brittany, excitement lighting up on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you must be Brittany,” she guesses, making her way over to the blonde.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs. “Yes, Mom. This is Brittany, my girlfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany glances at Santana, noticing the way she’s still a little bashful when she says it. She looks at Brittany like she doesn’t completely believe it still, after all these weeks, and Brittany has to resist the urge to pull her into her arms and remind her that yes, this is very real. Instead, she shifts her attention to Santana’s mother, offering a friendly smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Mrs. Lopez, it’s so nice to meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh please,” Mrs. Lopez chuckles, waving her hand. “Call me Maribel. By how much Santana talks about you, I feel like I practically know you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mami!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany meets her eyes and Santana is looking at her mother with her jaw dropped, a scowl on her face and cheeks flushed pink. She smirks as Mrs. Lopez - Maribel, she corrects - hugs her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk about me all the time now, do you?” Brittany asks over Maribel’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> the time,” Santana insists, a pout on her face now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maribel laughs loudly as she pulls away from Brittany, giving her a familiar mischievous look that she’s seen on Santana so many times before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could’ve fooled me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Santana groans helplessly. “Where’s Dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man appears from the kitchen and Brittany understands now why Santana looks like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Between her parents, Brittany is pretty sure there’s not a bad gene at all. Her father is tall and handsome, a worn look on his face that suggests he’s lived a lot of life despite his grey hairs only barely starting to come through. He has that same hard look in his eyes as Santana, like he is always on a mission to prove something. His face eases when his eyes fall on Santana, arms opening up for a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s my girl,” he says, the grin on his face growing as Santana walks over and falls into his embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi </span>
  <em>
    <span>Papi,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Santana mumbles against his chest, something like pure bliss on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana clings to her father tightly, and Brittany knows, based on conversations they’ve had before, how little she has really seen her father because of work. So to see him, here, in their dining room with Santana, putting everything aside for his little girl, makes Brittany’s heart warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home, my love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father kisses the top of her head, giving her a little squeeze before he lets go. He then turns to Brittany, an intrigued smile on her face as he holds his hand out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brittany,” he greets. “I’m so glad you could come home with Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles, a little shy as she takes his hand. His grip is firm, and Brittany is glad she matches it. She hates meeting dads, honestly, it’s scary, but she thinks she’s holding her own right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Dr. Lopez, thanks for letting me tag along with Santana,” she tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” he nods, as if there was never any other option. “I love meeting a girl who can make my Santana a rambling mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Santana pipes up, looking offended. “Seriously, what is with these shots at me today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs, watching the way Dr. Lopez’s eyes light up at Santana’s reaction. He pats both of them on the back, urging them to the dining table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all out of love, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mjia. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We just miss you is all,” Maribel insists as she takes her place next to her husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes, pulling out Brittany’s chair for her before sitting her own. Brittany tries not to swoon at the dumb gesture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Santana grumbles, but she can’t even hold her feigned grumpiness when she turns to Brittany, who looks at her with a wide smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have homemade fajitas that Maribel cooked up, and Brittany swears she’s never had better food in her life. Brittany tells her this after her first bite, and Maribel is looking at Santana with a pointed look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This girl knows what she’s talking about,” she says with a slight smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smiles behind her food, casting a knowing glance at Brittany as she replies, “Yeah, she’s kind of a genius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shakes her head fondly at Santana’s words, and she misses the way Maribel watches them carefully before she’s shooting a knowing smirk at her husband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fill lunch with good conversation and Brittany feels herself relax as the meal goes on. Dr. Lopez, for how intimidating he is, radiates warmth and a familiarness that Brittany finds reminds her of her own father back at home. He’s quick with a smart joke, rolling them out as easily as Santana delivers a witty line. Brittany surprises him with quick responses of her own, and it has him shooting an impressed look at Santana the first time it happens. Santana only gives him a smug smirk back, and Brittany’s heart swells with joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maribel is inviting and makes Brittany feel like she’s welcome, like she’s settled in already. She asks about Brittany’s own family, about making her way to New York, about touring with Beyonce-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told your parents about me touring with Beyonce?” Brittany asks, amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shrugs, looking proud. “I can’t brag about my insanely talented girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-and how she ended up on Mercedes’ tour. Brittany answers eagerly, shying away just a little when Maribel raves at how talented she must be. Santana jumps in when Brittany grows shy, excited as she gushes to her parents about how good of a dancer Brittany is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s amazing, you’ll see,” Santana promises, eyes shining. “She’s like the best dancer I’ve ever met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany flushes a little, nudging her playfully. “Oh please, no one’s looking at me when you’re on stage. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, San.” She turns, grinning at Santana’s parents when she says, “Your daughter was born to perform.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maribel smiles warmly, eyes falling on Santana and looking nostalgic as she says, “I’ve known that since the first time she picked up her toy microphone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see pictures of that,” Brittany teases, wiggling her eyebrows at Santana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t,” Santana insists, then turns to shoot a warning look at her mother. “She </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t,</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Maribel doesn’t seem to back down, only giving Brittany a sly smile when she replies, “Whatever you say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mija.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany has a feeling she’ll totally get to see those photos later. She hides a smile of her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what happens after the tour ends?” Santana’s father asks curiously. “Will you be pursuing music?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an honest question, Brittany thinks, and Dr. Lopez looks at Santana as if genuinely wanting to hear what she thinks will happen next. Santana falters, as if it’s the first time she’s seriously been asked this question. Brittany watches as her eyes drop and her shoulders shrink in, just a little. It makes Brittany frown a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Santana admits. “I still have one more year at school, anyway. And plus, I don’t have a recording contract or anything like Mercedes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany wants to tell her that there’s no way she doesn’t get one by the end of tour, that singing is literally what she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>born</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do, but she waits. She watches Santana’s parents, who eye her curiously but seem okay with the unsure answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you never know what could happen,” Maribel comments lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sensing the shift in his daughter’s attitude, Dr. Lopez adds, “Well, at least you have a solid plan with school, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods, still not looking up. “Yeah, totally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just enjoy the tour right now Santana,” Maribel insists, reaching over and giving her daughter’s hand a squeeze. “It’s fun, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only then that Santana looks up, the hesitant and unsure look clouding her features slowly clearing up enough to show the unabashed joy when she says, “It is. I...I love it, Mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maribel smiles, squeezing Santana’s hand one more time before letting go. “I know you do, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mija.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She then shifts the conversation back to Brittany, asking about what tour has been like for her, and Brittany easily fills the empty air, gushing about how incredible Mercedes’ team is and how fun it is to perform with Santana. While she speaks, she reaches under the table, her hand falling on top of Santana’s knee. She gives a gentle squeeze there and feels Santana relax under her touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When her parents aren’t paying attention, Santana drops a hand under the table, resting it on top of Brittany’s before interlacing their fingers together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finish lunch soon after that and Dr. Lopez excuses himself back to the hospital.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’m working overnight,” he explains to Santana, dropping a kiss to her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He then turns to Brittany and smiles, pulling her into an unexpected side hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow too, okay? It’s good to meet you, Brittany.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles, feels her chest grow warm at the way Dr. Lopez looks at her, like he approves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, have a good shift, Dr. Lopez.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls away, shooting her a smile and ruffling Santana’s hair - much to Santana’s protest - before he’s out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They try to help with the dishes, but Maribel is quickly shooing them out of the kitchen, insisting she’ll throw them in the dishwasher before she heads to the office for a meeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might run late with paperwork I still have to do,” Maribel explains to Santana. “Will you two be okay for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods. “Yeah, we’ll figure something out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously Maribel, lunch was amazing,” Brittany gushes again. “Thank you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maribel smiles softly at her. “Of course, honey. And just let me know if you need anything, okay? Your house is our house, you’re always welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is an all-consuming feeling growing big like a balloon in Brittany’s chest, but she tries to tap it down as she smiles and mumbles her thanks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks at her like she belongs in this house, like it’s normal for Brittany to be standing here talking to her mother. It makes Brittany feel things she always thought were too big to feel, but then Maribel is kissing both their cheeks and Brittany feels like maybe she’s found another piece of home in Ohio.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana watches from her bed as Brittany walks slowly around her room taking in the photos and the posters hanging up. It hasn’t changed much since she graduated and moved to New York - same old dark bed sheets, the dark walls and the dark painted door Santana fought with her mom about back when she was fifteen and angry at the world. It all reminds Santana of everything before senior year, of all the hurt and pain and how scared she used to be. She thinks that fifteen-year-old Santana would be surprised to find her here now, bringing her girlfriend home to meet her parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She notices Brittany pauses at one photo in particular, one of Quinn, Mercedes and Santana in Times Square. They all have their hands thrown up in the air and grin widely at the camera. Looking at it makes Santana smile at the memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was the first time I’d ever been to New York,” she speaks up, startling Brittany a little. “Show choir nationals, junior year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany turns around to face her, lips quirked up in a smile as she asks knowingly, “You fell in love with it, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s smile widens into a grin, feeling a little breathless at the memory. In her mind, she can recall the feeling of New York City for the first time, the way her eyes glistened at the bright lights and chaos and </span>
  <em>
    <span>success </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she nods. “I really did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s smile turns into something sweet as she makes her way to the bed to join Santana. “New York was made for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs softly, easily rolling into Brittany’s arms when she opens them for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how would you know that?” she asks, voice slightly teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany leans in like it’s a secret as her arm settles around Santana’s back, whispering, “Because New York is as big and as hot as you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Brittany says it has goosebumps rising on Santana’s arms, she feels her face grow warm and her whole expression softens because what else is she supposed to when Brittany does </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany’s eyes are alarmingly honest, and the arm around Santana is strong and firm. She looks at Santana like she means it, like she has no trace of doubt. Even after all this time together, of hearing Brittany say things like this, in quiet moments alone, she still can’t completely wrap her hand around it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Britt…” she whispers, taking in everything about Brittany’s expression right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana can’t find the words she wants to say; it almost feels like they don’t exist. She feels like the deeper she falls for Brittany, the less words there are to explain exactly what it’s like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Brittany doesn’t need any more explanation, understanding lighting up in her eyes at Santana’s fragile tone. She smiles softly, pulling Santana into her until the singer’s head is resting comfortably against her chest. Santana exhales softly, settling against Brittany like she always does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit in silence for a moment, and Santana is sure she’s about to fall asleep when Brittany’s voice brings her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you do music full time if you could?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question surprises Santana, but Brittany sounds curious so she takes a moment before she answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wanted to do music as long as I can remember,” Santana tells her honestly. “I just...I didn’t think until now I really could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So would you, though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shifts so she can look at Brittany properly, pulling away from her chest but still staying within her grasp. Brittany’s wide eyes are fixed on her, lips twisted in question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. It’s not like I really have anything set after this besides finishing up at NYU,” Santana shrugs. “There’s no record deal or anything like that waiting for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany nods, her fingertips running absentmindedly up and down Santana’s back over her shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And plus, I think I’d want to finish school,” Santana admits thoughtfully. “I kind of like what I’m studying, and it’s always good to have a back up plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such a nerd,” Brittany teases with a soft giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only rolls her eyes fondly before Brittany is leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But really, it’s so cool you’re this total smarty pants at NYU and you’re this amazing performer. It’s like you’re the whole package.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany is shooting her a cheeky grin, and Santana can’t help but grin back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well lucky you, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky me,” Brittany agrees with a nod, still grinning as she looks down at Santana. “Girl of my dreams, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana giggles, shoving at Brittany’s shoulder for the cheesy line, but Brittany only laughs before she’s leaning over and pressing her lips to Santana’s. Santana meets her lips eagerly, tilts her head up for better access to Brittany. Brittany saves them both the trouble, shifting so she’s straddling Santana, who Brittany has now moved onto her back. Santana’s arms hook around Brittany’s shoulders and pull her closer, opening her mouth to grant Brittany’s tongue access after it swipes across her bottom lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re making out in Santana’s childhood bedroom, surrounded by sharp memories of everything she felt back then. In the back of her mind, Santana hardly registers the memory of kissing girls in the dark for no one else to see, blaming it on the alcohol and saying things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>sex isn’t dating</span>
  </em>
  <span> for her own comfort. God, she’s come so far. She’s here, underneath the prettiest girl she’s ever seen - her </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend, </span>
  </em>
  <span>mind you - sober and happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers have somehow made it underneath Brittany’s jean shorts, teasingly running along the skin under the waistband.  Brittany’s hands aren’t too far off, slipping underneath Santana’s shirt and running along her abs until they find the underwire of her bra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s why, when Brittany pulls away, Santana practically lets out a gasp of surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the record,” Brittany pants in the space between them. “I know you’re totally going to do music full time one day soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana holds back a laugh at the way Brittany’s thoughts have returned to their previous conversation. Instead she smiles, trying to steady the way her chest rises and falls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Totally,” Brittany nods, eyes glistening. “And you’re definitely bringing me on your first tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t we confident in the future?” Santana hums, but she’s smiling at the thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes brighten when she responds, “I’m confident in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s chest swells so much that she’s sure it’s going to burst right here and now. Her mouth opens, but there’s nothing she can possibly think of saying without sounding like a total sappy idiot. So she just grabs at Brittany’s hips under her shorts and tugs her back down forcefully with a searing kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gets the message, loud and clear, unable to help it when she smiles into their kisses, even as she effortlessly tugs Santana’s shirt off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they have sex once or twice - twice, definitely twice - before Santana settles back against Brittany’s chest, both of them dozing off before they realize it. When they wake up, the sun is low in the sky and their stomachs rumble. It takes a lot of kisses and promises of good food before Santana is able to drag Brittany out of bed, the two of them fumbling and grabbing at each other as they go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s old sedan is still parked in the front, and there is something unexplainable that fills up inside of her when she looks at Brittany in the passenger’s seat, taking in everything about Lima as they drive. She gives Brittany the grand tour, taking the long way to her favorite restaurant, Breadstix. She drives by William McKinley High School, smiling when she eyes the football field she’d spent so many weekends flipping around on. She drives past her father’s hospital, explaining that she used to be so curious, insisting she follow her father around for a day when she was little. She drives by the Lima Bean, probably filled with teenagers she doesn’t know now, and tells Brittany of the many days she and her friends spent there pretending to study but honestly just gossiping away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany takes it all in, looking at Lima like it’s some magical place. It’s refreshing, if Santana’s being honest, to see someone look at Lima this way. She may have been one of the first people to happily book her one way ticket out of here, but her chest warms at the way Brittany is so clearly seeing this as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana’s home.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is practically gone by the time they pull into the parking lot of Breadstix, and Santana can’t help the squeal of excitement that escapes her when they approach the entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this place really good or what?” Brittany jokes, hip checking Santana lightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shoots her a smirk. “Two words, babe: unlimited breadsticks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany raises her eyebrows, intrigued. “Say less.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Santana never really imagined herself being the girl who moved to New York and brought her girlfriend back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lima</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but having Brittany sit across from her in the old booth she used to claim at Breadstix, it all just feels right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany teasingly kicks her under the table and they probably eat more bread than their weight combined, but it’s happy and light and free and Santana knows this is all she ever wanted back when she used her cheerleading uniform as a shield against other people. Brittany’s eyes sparkle when Santana tells her about how she used to cause terror in this restaurant, she and Quinn being frequent visitors of the place. Brittany orders a shrimp cocktail because “it’s a date, San. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span> paying,” and Santana can’t find it in herself to argue; she’s too busy smiling like an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like Brittany fits right into her old life, like she’s part of Lima just as much as Santana is. Nothing about her screams the untouchable New York. No, here, in the dim lights of Breadstix, they are just Brittany and Santana, two girls on a date in the middle of the summer. Brittany is just a girl who Santana is still so sure is way out of her league, and Santana is just the big idiot helplessly falling for her every single day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reaches out for Brittany’s hand without even thinking about it when they leave, fingers intertwining - something she would’ve never done for most of high school. Brittany kisses her when they get to her car, soft and sweet and gentle and Santana is so hopeless it should be embarrassing. The drive home is filled with Brittany’s playlist at full volume and the two of them singing along. Santana has one hand on the wheel and the other is holding Brittany’s in her lap; Brittany bringing their hands up and pressing soft kisses to the back of Santana’s hand at every stop sign. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they get back home, Santana’s mother is sitting in the living room watching some stupid drama. It’s Brittany that tugs the two of them over, sitting with Maribel to watch the show. Santana curls into Brittany’s side, watching with interest not at the show, but at how Maribel and Brittany get along so easily. They’re watching the show wide wide eyes, gasping at every plot twist and filling the commercial breaks with easy conversation. Maribel is - unsurprisingly - charmed by Brittany almost immediately, and Santana has to hide her smile into Brittany’s shoulder as the two of them continue to talk, only popping out when it’s clear they’re talking about her now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure San was just as adorable when she was a kid,” Brittany says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Let me get those photo albums,” Maribel says when the show ends, standing from her seat on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mami, no!” Santana yelps, shooting up to lunge for her mother’s wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany is quick to wrap both arms around her body and hold her back, laughing as Santana wriggles in her grasp. Maribel only rolls her eyes and disappears, leaving Santana to pout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re teaming up against me now?” Santana asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany kisses her pout, and Santana hates how easily it falls when Brittany kisses her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh honey, you can see all my embarrassing childhood pictures when we visit my parents,” she assures her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana perks up, looking at Brittany in pleasant surprise. “I will?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smiles, biting her lip when she realizes what she’s said. “I mean..yeah, if you want to meet them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s her hesitant tone that makes Santana sit up, removing Brittany’s arms around her to grasp her hands in Santana’s own. Something warm settles in her stomach before it begins to spread throughout her entire body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany wants Santana to meet her parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do,” Santana promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Brittany asks, looking at Santana like she’s a daydream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Totally,” Santana nods, leaning in to give Brittany a quick kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s smiling when she pulls away, and Santana feels like she can’t breathe. She knows she’d do anything to see that smile on Brittany, one she only ever sees around Santana herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are suddenly words lodged in Santana’s throat, three of them that so very easily could slip. But Santana freezes, knows it’s not the right time, and forces them back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks...that maybe, she’s falling in love with Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’s pretty sure she's </span>
  <em>
    <span>been</span>
  </em>
  <span> falling in love with Brittany since the moment they met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she’s not exactly sure what to do with this information yet, so she lets it sit.)</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wakes up to Brittany peppering kisses all over her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a soft grunt escaping her before a smile forms, and when she opens her eyes just the tiniest bit, she is greeted by Brittany’s bright smile and pretty blue eyes hovering over her in the dark bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembers that she’s in Lima with Brittany, and the thought makes her feel all warm and giddy on the inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get why you’re not a morning person now,” Brittany tells her with a chuckle. “Blackout curtains, really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana frowns, hands coming up above her head as she stretches out her whole body in an attempt to wake herself up a bit more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A girl likes her sleep,” she defends, but her frown disappears when Brittany leans down to greet with a soft kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Brittany hums at the corner of her lips. “Your mom made breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes grow wide with excitement. “Banana pancakes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs at her reaction, hand coming up to brush hair away from Santana’s face as she replies, “Come downstairs to find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes, tugging at Brittany’s top until she’s close enough to kiss again. It’s sweet and soft, gentle in all the ways Santana loves. They make out lazily for a while, breaking apart only to smile and let out soft laughter for no particular reason. Santana thinks she could get used to this, waking up to Brittany’s lips on her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany is finally able to coax her out of bed half an hour later, and the smell of banana pancakes hits Santana as soon as they make their way downstairs. Maribel is brewing coffee, and Santana presses a kiss to the side of her head in greeting. She feels her whole body settle in this moment, like this is just any other day in Lima. Of course, she loves New York, but she misses her family, their weekend breakfasts together and the chaos of weekday mornings when everyone was trying to get from one place to another. For all the bad moments in Santana’s life, her parents were always there, never judging her but always expecting her to rise up to the challenge, to hold her head high no matter what happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even when her abuela decidedly disowned her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(“You can’t for someone to love you,” her mother told her with sadness in her voice. “But you still have so many people who love you for who you are, Santana. And that’s what matters, honey. Maybe your abuela will come around one day, but know that this love? The love your </span>
  <em>
    <span>Papi</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I have for you? It’s here and it’s not going anywhere. We love you for who you are and don’t ever want you to feel like you have to hide that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A teary-eyed senior Santana had merely nodded, collapsing into her mother’s chest, trying to make sense of it all.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t get any easier, Santana realizes, coming back home and not seeing her abuela. It’s been three years since that fateful night at her grandmother’s house, and though she gets the occasional update from her parents, Santana hasn’t actually had contact with her grandmother since then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s still an abuela-sized hole in her heart, one that misses the plethora of rice and beans and the way her grandmother constantly fussed over her. She misses the old stories her grandmother used to tell her about her youth, about falling in love with Santana’s grandfather.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She misses it all, but as she sits at the dining room table next to Brittany as her mother tells her a story of a younger version of Santana, she knows that none of this is worth hiding. Her abuela can have her secrets and hidden truths; Santana loves the way Brittany holds her hand on the table and kisses her temple when Maribel comments on how stubborn she’s always been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father joins them halfway through breakfast, finally coming home from his night shift. He drops a kiss to Santana’s head and squeezes Brittany’s shoulder, and Santana can’t help but swoon a little at how easily her parents have allowed Brittany into their fold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They linger around the house, talking about everything and nothing with her parents until they can’t avoid it any longer. Santana hadn’t realized how much she missed them until she was right here in front of them, falling into routine like she never left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll see you tonight, my little star,” her father beams, pulling her into a bear hug that always has Santana feeling so safe and loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you,” Santana hums into his chest, inhaling his cologne and the smell of the hospital she’s grown so used to on his scrubs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she pulls away, she watches as her father opens his arms up for Brittany, who looks excited and she gives him a hug of her own. Her father meets her gaze over Brittany’s shoulder and shoots Santana a wink. Santana tries - and fails - not to grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a stranger, you hear me?” he tells Brittany as he pulls away. “Come visit with Santana again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And even though Santana can’t see her face, she just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> Brittany’s giving her dad the brightest smile when she answers, “Of course, Dr. Lopez. I’d love to come back soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother comes up beside Santana, nudging her playfully with a knowing smile on her face as she watches her husband and Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Santana asks curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maribel looks at her, expression softening. “I like this one a lot, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mija.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana bites her lip in a poor attempt to not absolutely beam at the sentence. Her heart bursts at the way her mother looks, like she can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> how happy Brittany makes her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do too,” Santana agrees, looking back at the other two to watch Brittany laugh at what Santana is sure is one of her father’s weak dad jokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mother gives her a tight hug and kisses her cheek, promising they’ll see her again tonight after the show before she moves on to Brittany, who leans down and hugs her mother’s small frame without a second thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make sure my daughter takes good care of herself,” Maribel tells Brittany as they pull away from each other. “Sometimes she works too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany laughs softly, eyes meeting Santana’s when she promises, “I’ll do my best. She’s very determined, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh don’t I know it,” Maribel chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only rolls her eyes, but she looks at Brittany, fond and exasperated, before she’s reaching out for the blonde’s hand and saying their last goodbyes to her parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On their way back to Columbus, Brittany looks at Santana with soft eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for taking me home with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smiles, taking Brittany’s hand in hers. “I know it’s nothing like New York but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany only shakes her head, bringing their intertwined hands up to press a soft kiss to the back of Santana’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I loved it,” she promises. “And your parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a pause in the air, like there is something else that Brittany wants to say. When Santana meets her eyes again, it’s like she can’t breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it feels like Brittany wants to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Santana’s heart squeeze and her stomach clench and she can’t read Brittany’s expression, but something deep inside of her fills with something akin to hope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Brittany doesn’t say anything more, just looks at Santana in a way she can’t decipher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They love you,” Santana manages to say, finding her voice after a moment. “Just like I told you they would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany only gives her a bashful smile, lips twisting before she settles her head onto Santana’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s no surprise that the show that night feels like a dream come true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany pulls Santana around the corner when she exits her dressing room, kissing her hard once she’s got her hands on Santana’s waist. The singer is taken by surprise, but she doesn’t question it, kissing her girlfriend back eagerly. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> it turns into a very quick makeout session, but Santana honestly can’t find it in herself to pull away. Who is she to deny Brittany, anyway?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when Brittany </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>finally pull away, looking a little breathless before she’s even hit the stage, her eyes are so clear and blue it almost catches Santana off guard. She looks at Santana like she is the single, most important person in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” she breathes out. “But you never need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Santana murmurs, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Brittany basically pulled her into an impromptu makeout session right before her set.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One minute!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany gives her one last smile, small and reassuring, before she’s pulling away, off to her mark. Santana does the same, adrenaline filling her veins when the music starts and she steps out onto the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she performs, Santana remembers those concerts she’d make the drive for with her parents and eventually her friends to see her favorite artists in Columbus. It blows her mind to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> the stage now, to have people cheer her on, to see some even sing along to her songs. She sees the familiar faces towards the front, her and Mercedes’ parents, family friends, some of their old friends from high school that are in town, and her heart squeezes comfortably in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, we’re ending with a special one tonight,” she tells the crowd, smiling big. “Little known fact, Mercedes and I were both in show choir at our high school in Lima.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd cheers at that, and Santana has to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought I’d bring it full circle and sing a song that means so much to me. When I sang this in high school, it was the first time I even dreamed of being able to be on a stage like this outside of show choir,” she admits, and then the drummer is tapping his drumsticks together and it all rushes back to her, Mike and Brittany dancing out onto the stage to join her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She belts out Valerie like she did when she was sixteen, confident and in control and so in love with the moment. But this time, Mike and Brittany are twirling around her, and every time she meets Brittany’s eyes her heart skips a little. She flirts with Brittany as she sings, beckoning her over with her pointer finger and Brittany’s eyes light up in delight, and it all feels so surreal that Santana thinks she’s having an out of body experience for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany and Mike hug her from either side when the song ends, smiles wide and eyes shining. Santana tries to catch her breath, arms coming around both of them as she looks out into the crowd. The cheers are loud, almost too noisy to take in. But before she knows it they’re pushing her out in front of them, letting her have her moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ohio!” she shouts into her microphone, waving at the crowd. “It’s so good to be home!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It gets impossibly louder and Santana blows a kiss out before she’s walking off the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she comes back out one more time to do her duet with Mercedes, she feels like she is a teenager again. If she ignores the crowd and the noise, it’s like they’re back in that stupid choir room again, like Santana is wearing her Cheerios uniform and they are just kids, competing in a stupid duet competition in glee club for a Breadstix gift card.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when the song ends, the cheers are so loud Santana is brought back to the present. They throw their arms around each other and laugh, both a little in shock of how far they’ve come, how far they hope to go. Quinn is going wild to the side of the stage, Brittany cupping her hands around her mouth to let out loud whoops of approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana feels full at this moment, trying to take it all in because she never wants to forget this feeling. She never wants to forget where she came from and what she’s been through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s being scooped up into Brittany’s arms immediately after walking off stage a moment later, Quinn laughing loudly beside them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe that just happened, holy shit!” Santana exclaims as her arms wrap around Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn grins at her. “You’re unreal, Santana. Somehow, you haven’t changed at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana gives her a fond look, and the two of them break out in big, inevitable smiles. She knows Quinn was brought back to high school tonight, too, with the songs and the people here. It’s comforting to know her best friend gets it without really having to say much at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany pulls away, looking ecstatic. Her voice is soft, but Santana still hears her clear as day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re magic, San.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahh! We're almost at the end. Don't worry, I promise no more angst from here on out. Thank you to everyone who leaves comments after each chapter. I loved reading them. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brittany S. Pierce is definitely in love with Santana Lopez.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t pinpoint the exact moment. It could be one of the many nights she’s watched Santana kill it on stage. It could be that first time they met, when Santana literally fell into Brittany’s arms. It could be the day at Holly’s studio or even their date - because that’s what it was, let’s face it - in Seattle. It could be waking Santana up in her childhood bedroom in Lima, a sleepy smile on her face when she opened her eyes to look at Brittany. It could even be every time she watches Santana smile with her dimples or hears her infectious laugh or even when Santana looks at her with those soft, unbelieving eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could have been a lot of things, but Brittany knows now that the feeling that starts in her chest and spreads through the rest of her body when she looks at Santana is unmistakable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The realization settles in her chest and stays like a steady hum against her heartbeat. She feels a wave of love overcome her practically every time she looks at Santana, but there’s not much she can do about it at this point - not that she wants to, anyway. She embraces the feeling that comes over her, that warmth that spreads throughout her body just at the mere sight of her girlfriend and doesn’t ever completely fade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The biggest waves, though, come when Santana eyes meet her own on stage, or when Santana lets out a loud, unrestricted laugh in the moments between shows and plane rides and last minute rehearsals. She feels it when Santana looks at her like she’s the reason for the sun rising every morning or when Santana’s hand drifts to the small of her back without a second thought when they’re out and about, almost as if she needs to be touching Brittany in some way at all times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost overwhelming at times, the startling reminder of being in love, but something inside of her settles each time as well. Santana Lopez just makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the simplest of ways, and Brittany thinks that’s what she loves most about her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That feeling starts in Brittany’s chest again when they make it to the east coast. They are in Brittany’s hotel room, Mike out with some of the other dancers, and Santana is blasting her current favorite song of the moment - she’s had maybe three or four she’s cycled through since the tour started - and dancing around Brittany’s room freely. She tugs Brittany off the bed when the chorus hits, and Brittany lets herself be pulled around until she’s dancing with her girlfriend. It’s carefree and light, laughter bubbling in Brittany’s throat and escaping her lips. Santana’s eyes are bright and her laughter is wild and matches Brittany’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany thinks these moments with Santana might be some of her favorites, the ones where they are just two young twenty-somethings instead of a dancer and singer on a nation-wide tour. It’s different from the Santana on stage; this one isn’t calculated or effortlessly working a crowd, but she’s just as spectacular with her hair up in a bun and a trace of sleep in her features. Her eyes shine and when her laughter pauses, she’s smiling that soft and sweet smile that’s only ever meant for Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Brittany doesn’t mean to stop and stare at her girlfriend while Santana continues to dance around her, but she can’t help it. Santana eyes her curiously, head tilting in a stupidly adorable way as she slows her movements, realizing that Brittany is no longer following her lead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Santana asks, a smile still on her face as she eyes Brittany curiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so quiet that Brittany almost wonders if Santana even heard her. Her heart pounds against her chest as she waits for the reaction. She watches - in slow motion, it feels like - as Santana’s expression shifts, her eyebrows furrowing together as she stares at Brittany for a long moment. Her eyes are unreadable and Brittany holds her breath, wondering if she’d let it slip too soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s convinced she’s screwed it up then. Her heart beats faster and louder and there is a voice telling her she’s made a terrible mistake, that Santana hadn’t been ready to hear those words. She opens her mouth to scramble out an excuse or apology - she’s not sure which one yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then Santana’s expression softens, and her eyes are shining and she’s looking at Brittany like she’s the best thing to ever walk this earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” she breathes out, her voice full of quiet wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany licks her lips nervously, but the sight of Santana, sweet and awestruck, is enough to settle her when she repeats, “I love you, Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana reaches out for her, tugging Brittany by the fabric of her shirt before their lips are crashing together. She kisses Brittany differently this time, like something has settled inside of her and she has to let Brittany know. Santana kisses her like everything has fallen into place, like they have all the time in the world but Santana will still never get enough of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Brittany dizzy, and she’s almost positive if Santana wasn’t gripping at her shirt tightly she would surely fall apart. She kisses Santana back fervently, like she’s trying to explain just how much she loves her. Her hands slide to Santana’s hips, keeping both of them steady and tugging her even closer. Santana lets out soft and happy sighs as they kiss again and again, an occasional giggle slipping into the space between their lips. It gets harder and harder to kiss each other because they’re both smiling and can’t seem to stop no matter how hard they try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana pulls away when it becomes clear all they’re capable of is smiling against each other. Her eyes are bright and full of pure adoration when she says, “I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany grins impossibly wider then, her heart beating erratically against her chest. She’s still breathless when she asks, “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The laugh Santana lets out is all kinds of angelic. It makes Brittany absolutely melt and she is sure she’s nothing more than a puddle of endless love for the girl in her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely,” Santana confirms, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Brittany that kisses Santana this time, and she can’t help the sweet sigh that falls from her lips when Santana murmurs a quiet and sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> into her skin minutes later.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana kind of hopes her summer never ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, she still thinks she has to pinch herself because this can’t be her real life. There’s just no way that she’s spent her entire summer touring the country as the opening act. There’s no way people are singing her songs or asking for photos or following her on social media after a concert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And on top of it all, Brittany </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany tells Santana constantly - in the quiet of the mornings when they first wake up and in the midst of the crowd screaming before every show. She tells her by the way she knows all of Santana’s coffee orders and how she looks at the singer after every set. It’s everything and nothing all at once, all the ways Brittany tells her both out loud and through her actions. Santana’s been burned before, but there’s no fear at all when Brittany looks at her. Instead she feels her heart expand in her chest and an inevitable smile grow on her lips and lets herself live in the moment because Brittany is here and she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tells herself often that she is on the tour of her dreams with the girl of her dreams, and she quietly prays it never ends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows in reality that the tour is coming to an end, and not too long after that she’ll have to return to her boring life as an NYU student. Brittany will go back to working at the studio a few days a week until a new gig comes up and they’ll have to figure out how to balance life and each other and everything in between.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that Santana’s worried they won’t figure it out - they will, she knows by the way she can’t help but smile when Brittany talks about life after this tour together, like date nights and Santana coming over for weekly movie nights with Mike and Tina - it’s just that she likes that her only responsibility the past few months has been to walk on stage and sing. And on top of that, she gets to see her girlfriend every day. So she savors every moment, tries to picture it in her memory because honestly - Santana has no idea if she’ll ever be able to do something like this again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she holds onto every moment she has left. She breathes out in quiet awe, hiding behind a bright smile every time she hears the crowd roar in approval. She beams when Brittany executes the choreo flawlessly like she’s done for months, her eyes surely twinkling when she meets the blonde’s gaze. She kisses Brittany a little longer for every good luck kiss. She laughs with Mercedes and explores with Quinn and jokes with Mike and all the while, she holds these moments close to her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every city they cross off their list is another one Santana tries to commit to memory, tries to find something special about each one. She does this until they are flying back to New York, an excited buzz lighting up the cast and crew once again. It reminds Santana so much of the buzz amongst them when they made it to Los Angeles, at the start of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home,” Brittany murmurs in her ear when they land.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand holds Santana’s over the arm rest between them and her face is soon buried in Santana’s neck, leaving a soft kiss against the skin she finds there. Santana smiles in satisfaction, squeezing Brittany’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not really scared of takeoffs and landings anymore, not when Brittany is here to ground her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home Britt,” she sighs happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana has hardly dropped her bags off in her and Quinn’s hotel room when she gets a call from Mercedes, asking if she can meet in the conference room downstairs. She frowns, checking the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn had left the room, offering to pick up their takeout meals from the tour staff. After confirming with Mercedes that </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it can’t wait until the next morning, Santana begrudgingly makes her way to the elevator. She wonders what on earth this could even be about, but when she attempted to press Mercedes over text for information, she just said it was really important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god, had Mercedes somehow gotten injured between getting off the bus and getting to her room? Were they going to have to cancel their last show because she can’t perform?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shakes her worst concerns away as she walks into the conference room. She’s greeted by Mercedes, her manager and a man she’s never seen before. Santana eyes them all curiously, entering the room with caution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Santana thanks for coming down,” Bryan greets with an easy smile. “Come take a seat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah of course,” Santana nods, glancing at the two new people in the room before taking a seat next to Mercedes across the table from the two men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her friend shoots her an excited smile and it only leaves Santana even more confused than she was when she walked in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Santana,” the other man says with a charming smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. My name is Steve, I’m a representative of Mercedes’ label.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Santana greets carefully, still not quite sure what’s happening in this room right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re very impressed with your talent Santana,” Steve starts, leaning forward just a little. “Quite frankly, it’s incredible to me that no one’s found you yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tries to bite back a bashful smile as she replies, “Thank you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes beams next to her. “She’s getting a business degree at NYU right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steven raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Talent and brains, what a combination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana ducks her head at that. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’s known she’s smart and talented, but still - it’s weird to have people she barely even knows acknowledging it. She feels Mercedes subtly nudge her elbow and when she meets her friend’s eyes, the message is clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s right and we both know it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve brings their attention back when she continues, “Look, Santana, we’ll just be straightforward here: we don’t want your talent to slip away from us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” Santana draws out, brows furrowing just a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not exactly sure what he means, and honestly, she’s pretty sure the past three months are starting to catch up to her because all she can think of is crawling into her bed upstairs before one last show tomorrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We want to sign you to a record deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything stills when the words fill Santana’s ears. It’s like time is frozen as Santana’s eyes widen. It’s a miracle her jaw doesn’t drop right then and there. There’s no way she heard him correctly - there’s no way </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is happening. Her heart begins to thud loudly against her chest, hands shaking under the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she turns to Mercedes, wide eyed and in shock, the smile she finds is unmistakable. Her friend is practically beaming as the words start to sink in. Mercedes looks at her with the same pride she did back in that choir room on those days where Santana would sing her heart out only for the other glee club members to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Santana manages, turning her attention back to the men across the table. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth spreads into a wide smile, nodding as he tells her, “We want to work with you. We’d be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>lucky</span>
  </em>
  <span> to work with someone as talented as you, Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana blinks, trying to figure out if she’s made it into some weird alternate reality because </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She fights the urge to pinch herself, like she sometimes still has the urge to do when she’s with Brittany, because there’s just no way this is happening. There’s no way Santana gets the girl </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> her dream in one go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because this is all she’s ever really wanted. Music has been all she’s ever wanted. Back in high school, Santana always talked a big talk about being famous and being a star. Now, sitting here across from an actual music producer who is quite literally offering her a contract, Santana can’t quite believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I have one year left at NYU” is somehow the first coherent sentence Santana is able to string together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kind of wants to smack herself in the forehead for that, but she’s too dumbstruck to even move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can work with that,” Steve promises, then leans forward, looking sincere when he adds, “We believe in you and your talent. I think the world needs to hear your voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana kind of feels like she can’t breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s getting a record deal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brittany is sprawled out on the edge of Santana’s bed with a half-eaten takeout box in front of her. Quinn is sitting in a chair across from her, her own takeout box empty. For how different they are, Brittany finds it comforting how easy it is to get along with the other blonde. Quinn is smart and witty like Santana, but she’s kind and gentle, too. She treats Brittany like they’ve been friends for ages, and something about Quinn feels so achingly familiar that sometimes, it’s hard to think they’d only met a few months ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes wander to the unopened takeout box on the table, her lips in a slight pout. She wonders then what on earth could be keeping Santana away from her dinner. It’s been almost an hour according to Quinn since Santana sent a text saying she was meeting Mercedes for something, and neither of them have heard from her since. When she looks back at Quinn, the other girl only offers her a shrug as she tosses her empty box into the small trash can next the dresser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana bursts through the door then, and Brittany can’t help the smile that spreads on her face at the sight of her girlfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe,” Brittany greets warmly, then glances at the box in front of her. “We would’ve waited for you, but you were kind of taking forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn turns, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously Santana, what took you so long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana is silent for a moment, closing the door behind her as she looks between her girlfriend and her best friend. Brittany notices the hesitation in her eyes, how somehow her words can’t escape her throat just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany wonders where her girlfriend’s been and what happened in between arriving at the hotel and now. It doesn’t seem like Santana’s upset, so that’s a plus, right? Still, Brittany can’t help the slight worry that begins to etch into her features the longer Santana is silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana?” Brittany prompts gently when the silence hangs between all of them for a beat too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another beat and then- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They offered me a record deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost feels like it echoes in the room between the three of them for a second. Brittany can see the look on Santana’s face, like she isn’t sure what she’s just said is real. She watches as the singer’s eyes flicker between the two blondes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany doesn’t know how after all this time, after everything this summer, Santana still doesn’t realize just how talented she is, how this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to happen. Brittany had always known - had realized it that first day of that first rehearsal: Santana was born to do this. It was inevitable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes go wide in excitement and she lets out an audible gasp as she’s clambering up off Santana’s bed, nearly knocking her takeout box to the floor in the process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn’s jaw drops, but her lips are turning up in a smile already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who? Mercedes’ label?” Quinn asks excitedly, gripping at the chair she’s sitting in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana nods in confirmation, chewing at her lip in what Brittany knows is an anxious tick, “A guy from the label is here and he said they want to sign me and get started on a debut album.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany bounces on her heels like an excited child as she beams, “Of course they do, babe. You’re so - I knew they would!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words still make Santana flush, even though Brittany’s voiced her vote of confidence in Santana and her career over and over again these past few months. Brittany knows she’s beaming and that her cheeks might burst from how big her smile is, but she doesn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Santana has a record deal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shoots her girlfriend an adoring look before she turns to Quinn, who has a curious look in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you taking it? What about school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany tilts her head in question at Santana, who looks between them both, almost hesitant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I want to finish school,” she declares, sounding so sure but so small at the same time. “I told them that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what did they say?” Quinn follows up immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shrugs. “They’ll figure out how to make it work. It’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t finish her sentence, leaving Quinn and Brittany to exchange a look with furrowed brows and slight frowns. When Brittany looks at Santana again, she recognizes the doubt in her eyes almost immediately. It’s almost like she can physically see the thoughts racing through Santana’s mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you can do this,” Brittany tells her, taking a step forward until she’s in front of the singer. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> do this. You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn catches on immediately, stepping into the space next to Brittany as she smiles knowingly, “Santana, no one works harder than you. If anyone could do this, it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany grins wide at Quinn’s statement, giving her girlfriend a pointed look. Because hasn’t she been saying something to that effect all along? That Santana was born to do this? Santana’s fighting a smile as she looks between her best friend and girlfriend. She gives Brittany a fond roll of her eyes just as the smile breaks through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s expression smoothes over at their words, at how Brittany’s looking at her. The hints of a smile are starting to peek through and Brittany can’t help but grin so wide she’s sure her cheeks will burst soon enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting a record deal!” Brittany exclaims, reaching out and playfully shaking Santana by the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears Quinn laugh besides her, but Brittany can’t tear her eyes away from Santana as a full fledged smile forms on her face - dimples and all - and her eyes shine as she looks at Brittany.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting a record deal,” she repeats, laughing as if it’s so impossible that she’s actually starting to believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn lets out a noise of excitement before she’s throwing her arms around her best friend and Brittany is quick to follow suit. Santana laughs louder this time, her arms circling around her the two blondes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re so proud of you,” Quinn says into Santana’s ear, loud enough for Brittany to hear her. “You deserve it all, San.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve everything,” Brittany parrots, placing a soft kiss on her temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be here without you,” Santana sighs as she wiggles out of their grasp, glancing between Quinn and Brittany. “Either of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s rare, this moment they’re getting from Santana. She doesn’t even roll her eyes at the sweet words tumbling out of her mouth. Instead, her eyes are filled with gratitude and her expression is soft and she looks so sweet in this yellow-lit hotel room. Brittany’s chest swells as she looks between the two of them, her smile so wide it must be hurting her cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Santana,” Quinn shakes her head. “You would’ve gotten here no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany believes every word when she adds, “That’s just who you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s eyes light up with adoration and she’s quickly throwing herself back into another hug, arms tossed around their backs and they are laughing and happy and order room service wine while Santana eats her cold takeout because it’s the last night before their final show and Santana has a record deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, when they crawl into bed - Brittany claiming to be too tired to walk to her room and Quinn insisting on </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny business while she’s sleeping - she presses a soft kiss to Santana’s exposed shoulder blade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does it feel?” she asks softly against Santana’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bites back a smile when she feels Santana shiver against her lips before she settles again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I keep thinking this is a dream I’m about to wake up from,” Santana admits quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s real San,” Brittany promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana shifts until they’re facing each other, faces so close their noses almost touch. Brittany bites back a smile at that, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just never thought I’d actually get something like this,” Santana whispers in the small space between them. “All of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany doesn’t have to ask; she knows exactly what Santana means. Her arm wraps around her waist and holds her in place. She revels in the way Santana relaxes into her touch before she presses their foreheads together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany shakes her head, a small smile finally peaking through as she says, “You’re magic, Santana.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling when her gaze lands back on Brittany. Brittany lets out a quiet giggle, kissing Santana softly for a brief moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and that damn Pierce charm,” Santana grumbles, but she’s not annoyed at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany smirks. “So you’re saying it worked on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana laughs, settling against Brittany’s chest as she says, “You’re so lucky I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Brittany agrees as her eyes flutter close and her hand trails up Santana’s shirt to draw patterns on her back. “The luckiest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana buzzes with excitement all day leading up to their final show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s bittersweet, she’ll admit, to know that it’s all coming to an official end. Tomorrow morning, she and Quinn will head back to their tiny apartment and prepare for their final year of college. She’ll be back to being Santana Lopez, the business student at NYU. She has classes to prepare for and a degree she’s rapidly approaching. Except now, she’ll be a business student with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>record deal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But for now, Santana is more than happy to focus on her final show of the tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tries to take it all in, from the morning walk around the corner for coffee and a bagel with Quinn to lounging around in Mike and Brittany’s hotel room. Mike’s girlfriend, Tina, joins them, and Santana can’t even get mad at her for fawning over her and Brittany upon her arrival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to think you insisted you </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a crush on the opener,” Tina smirks at Brittany triumphantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana looks at Brittany next to her in amusement. “You had a crush on me, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany chucks a pillow at Tina, who screams as she ducks to avoid it, before she’s looking at Santana with flushed cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I resist?” she teases, her voice soft and her eyes bright even though they can’t quite meet Santana’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s still a bit of shyness that comes with admitting it, and Santana can’t help the wide smile that spreads on her face. She’s so stupidly in love with Brittany and she knows now, there’s no other choice but to fall harder when she says things like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah well,” she starts quietly for only Brittany to hear, leaning in like she has a secret. “I know the feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes are somehow even brighter after that, and she’s sloppily pressing a kiss to the corner of Santana’s mouth before she’s pulling back with a grin. She looks at Santana like anything’s possible, like everything right here is just beginning. Santana feels her chest swell and her stomach do that stupid, excited flip and she only matches Brittany’s grin, feeling pathetically helpless but endlessly excited at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are only brought out of their embarrassingly ridiculous lovestruck staring contest by Mike, who tosses Brittany’s pillow right back at them. Santana threatens him with no real bite when it grazes her head while Brittany laughs, bright and loud, and Santana revels in the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana sneaks away with Mercedes later in the afternoon, one last coffee trip before it’s all over. She thinks of Los Angeles as they order their drinks - Mercedes still adamant about </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> cold brew - and how different things are since then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, nerves crept throughout her entire body as the thought of her first concert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, she feels nothing but the thrum of excitement with a hint of sadness knowing she’ll take the stage one last time on this tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We made it to the last show,” Mercedes jokes as they sit across from each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana smirks, raising up her cup as she says, “Here’s not killing each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It gets a snort out of Mercedes before she’s raising her own cup to meet Santana’s in the middle. She grins, “Here’s to killing it on tour all summer long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They bump their cups together with a grin before they settle into a temporary silence. One of the things Santana’s most appreciated about her friendship with Mercedes is for all the bickering and arguing they do, Mercedes still always seems to be on the same wavelength as her. Like now, when they both seem to be reminiscing over the past three months on tour in their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Santana starts quietly. “You know, for asking me to come on tour with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes fixes her gaze on her friend, warm and knowing. She shakes her head, like there was never any other way she would’ve allowed her tour to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was no one else I wanted on tour with me,” she admits, lips turning up a little. “Come on now, you make me better. You always have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana chuckles softly, nodding in agreement as she sips her tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now I have a recording contract thanks to you,” she adds teasingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes lets out a scoff. “As if I even had to do anything. You’ve gotta know that was just you and your talent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Santana answers in a noncommittal hum as she fixes a look on her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Mercedes is used to it, throwing back a look of her own as she insists, “It was all you, Santana. You’re just that good and it’s time you really owned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana bites her lip as she leans back in her seat. She busies herself with another sip of her drink, knowing that Mercedes is right. She’s good enough for a record deal, good enough to actually do this whole music thing - this summer alone has proved all her worries wrong. She knows, without a doubt, she belongs here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This summer on tour is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you,” Mercedes adds. “This is what you’re supposed to be doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It brings Santana back to being on stage over so many nights, to all the people who are starting to sing along with her songs, to people who stop her on her way out of the venue and ask for a photo or simply want to say they love the way she sounds. It fills Santana to the brim with an overwhelming happiness she hasn’t quite wrapped her head around yet, and it begins to pull a smile out of her before she even realizes what’s happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if you did want to give me credit for it,” Mercedes continues, a teasing tone in her voice that pulls Santana out of her little moment. “You technically also have me to thank for your girlfriend, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana lets out a scoff, looking offended as she gapes at Mercedes. Mercedes’ eyes light up and she laughs, amused at both her own joke and Santana’s reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am very capable of getting a girlfriend on my own thank you,” she defends with a slight glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm, sure,” Mercedes murmurs, taking a long sip out of her cup as Santana only stares at her in feigned irritation. “But I hope you know I’m so happy for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For getting a girlfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes makes a face at her. “No, you big dummy, for doing all of this. Santana, you spent all summer singing on tour and now you’re going back to finish school while working on music. This is a big deal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Enjoy</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana rolls her eyes, trying to play it cool, but she’s biting down a smile because she knows Mercedes is right. She sips quietly on her drink and lets it sink in all over again. This is her life now. Her life </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes only smiles big, eyes twinkling as she sips her own drink. Santana finds she doesn’t care at all then, letting out a disbelieving laugh before they are both laughing together and talking over each other about how far they’ve come and how far they hope to go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a newfound lightness in Santana now, one that settles underneath all the excitement and buzz of the final show. She carries it with her throughout the rest of her day, and it seems to be so obvious that Quinn notices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel different right now,” Quinn comments as they get ready to head down to the bus for the venue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tilts her head curiously, her lips quirking to the side, but Quinn’s smiling before she can get defensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The good kind of different,” she adds thoughtfully, looking her best friend up and down. “Almost like...I don’t know. You look good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Santana doesn’t have to ask what she means. She understands right away, her lips curling up and her eyes shining with everything she can’t say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel good,” she responds softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when they approach their final venue on tour, a venue that Santana herself has been to a few times as part of the crowd since her arrival to NYU, she doesn’t miss the hushed awe in Quinn’s voice as they eye the marquee, Mercedes and Santana’s names big and bold and unmistakable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really fucking proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of responding, Santana leans into her best friend until their arms press against each other. She rests her head on Quinn’s shoulder and lets out a soft sigh. Quinn gets it, reaching out until Santana’s hand is in hers and gives it a soft squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, despite all the different ways Quinn drives her up the wall, Santana can’t imagine not having her on this tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is something mellow about pre-show activities tonight and everyone feels it. There are more laughs and hugs and smiles than usual. More cheering when a successful soundcheck is complete, more time to lounge around in dressing rooms and chat idly about nothing and everything. But Santana doesn’t mind, just soaks it all like she’s been doing all day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finds Brittany standing at the end of the hallway, cheeky smile and all, Santana lets herself be pulled into her embrace easily, taking in the way Brittany kisses her nice and slow, like they have all the time in the world - like they aren’t about to do the last show of their tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Brittany mumbles against her lips before a soft giggle follows. “You never really needed it, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Santana shrugs, pulling a smirk. “But it’s always reassuring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany grins at that, kissing Santana quickly one last time before she’s pulling away and rushing off to her mark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she’s biased, but Santana is sure it’s her best show all tour. There’s a new freeness in her now that she’s back in New York, in the city she’d given all her hopes and dreams to. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t tear up a little as her own lyrics were being shouted back at her in time with the music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And every time she turns to look at Brittany on stage, it’s hard to remember that she lived a life in New York without her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes surprises her one last time, tugging Santana to stay on stage after their usual duet together, the one for her album. The beat starts and Santana can’t stop the big smile on her face as she recognizes the opening notes to River Deep, Mountain High.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hope y’all don’t mind. This is kind of our song,” Mercedes tells the crowd and they go wild.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana only laughs, shaking her head at Mercedes before she pulls a smirk just as her friend starts singing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Santana couldn’t even pretend they were in that small choir room if they tried. No, it’s so much bigger now - </span>
  <em>
    <span>feels</span>
  </em>
  <span> so much bigger than that silly moment back in high school. They still feed off of each other easily, playful as they belt and run wild with their movements across the stage, but Santana now knows - this is the real thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>High school Santana would never believe she’s where she is now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn and Brittany are there behind the curtain to tackle her with hugs at the end of the show, and Santana isn’t even sure which one of them is pressing kisses into her hair, but she finds she doesn’t care. She can’t stop smiling, and she’s exhausted, but despite it being the last show, her heart feels so full.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Brittany says when they finally pull away to let her breathe, her hand tracing down Santana’s arm until she intertwines their fingers together. “Let’s go change so we can celebrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana doesn’t disagree, just laughs and lets herself be tugged along by her girlfriend. There are congratulations and hugs and whoops of excitement as they walk through the hallway backstage. It’s not until they are in the quiet of Santana’s dressing room that Brittany finally speaks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy I came on this tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at Santana, blue eyes clear and steady. She’s smiling and sweat has strands of her hair sticking to her forehead, but Santana thinks she’s the most stunning person she’s ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Santana agrees softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if they end up making out until Quinn comes barging in demanding they hurry up, Santana doesn’t find it in herself to care. Because maybe Brittany whispers that she’ll finish what she started later when she takes her home, and maybe it makes Santana shiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, this really is her best summer ever.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Santana is practically sprinting around her and Quinn’s apartment in her heels. She’s got her bright purple graduation gown slung over her arm as she rushes around, trying to make sure she’s got everything before she heads out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck I’m going to be late,” she curses loudly as she crosses through the living room to grab the rest of her belongings from her bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well if you and Brittany hadn’t slept through all your alarms, you’d be out the door by now,” she hears Quinn from the other side of the apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Brittany protests around a mouthful of cereal at the counter. “It’s not my fault Santana kept turning them off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Santana ignores the fact she might be late to her own graduation, it’s a normal scene in their apartment. She’s spent so many mornings having breakfast with Brittany at the counter while Quinn flits around them, either off to her big-time internship at the publishing firm - which has become an official, full-time job following her own graduation from Columbia last weekend - or to class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s still technically just Santana and Quinn’s apartment, but Brittany has become such a frequent visitor over the past year that sometimes it feels like she lives here too. Not that either of them mind, especially Santana, who likes waking up in Brittany’s arms most mornings and being greeted with endless kisses when she’s taking much too long to wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Quinn also likes how Brittany often takes up space in their kitchen to bake when she’s around - that and also the fact Brittany does a very good job of shutting Santana up when Quinn needs her to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t team up against me with Quinn!” Santana had complained one day. “That makes you a traitor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany had only shrugged, giving her girlfriend a cheeky smile. “Maybe, but I’ll make it up to you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did not need to hear that,” Quinn had groaned.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana pops her head out of her bedroom to glare at her best friend. “And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> could have woken us up, asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what’s the fun in that?” Quinn asks with a smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany chuckles behind her spoon while Santana lets out a scoff before disappearing back into her room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sidesteps the opened suitcase with clothes and two pairs of shoes messily tossed inside. Even in her haste, her chest fills with excitement at the sight of it and the tiniest of smiles pulls at her lips. Everything in her apartment is kind of all over the place - well, everything that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span> because Quinn is the more organized of the two - because in a little over two weeks, she’s spending her summer on another tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except this time, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the headliner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a whirlwind of a year. Somehow she’s managed to work her ass off both in school and at the studio, putting together a debut album that was released towards the end of spring. It took off on the charts, soaring up the lists with her single playing on the radio just as Santana was gearing up for finals. Her chest fills with gratitude for a moment before she snaps herself out of it, quickly reminding herself she has her own </span>
  <em>
    <span>graduation</span>
  </em>
  <span> to attend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs her purse, her graduation cap and her various stolls she’d earned over her four years at NYU before she’s striding back out towards the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget your seats are with my parents,” Santana reminds them both as she checks to make sure she’s got everything she needs in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be there,” Quinn promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany slides off the stool she’s sitting on before bounding up to Santana with a bright smile, reaching out to tuck away stray hairs from her girlfriend’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do I look?” Santana asks her, softening when she sees the sweet look in Brittany’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like the hottest graduate I’ve ever seen,” Brittany tells her, then looks over to Quinn. “Sorry, Quinn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quinn shrugs, clearly not offended as she watches them with a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany then adds, “And like someone who’s going on her first headlining tour this summer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana beams, eyes bright before she leans over and gives Brittany a quick peck on the lips. She tastes like her stupidly sugar-filled cereal mixed with the sweetness that can only be described as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brittany </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Santana doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you soon, love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany hums in satisfaction. “Love you, San.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And even though it’s been a year, Santana’s stomach still does a stupid flip at the sound of Brittany’s words. She hopes it never gets old, this feeling that Brittany gives her. With one last goodbye to Quinn, who tells her to go before she’s ridiculously late, Santana is practically sprinting out of her apartment and off to catch the subway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for all of her flustered state of waking up late this morning - it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> fault she’d much rather be asleep in Brittany’s arms than getting out of bed - she can’t stop smiling once she walks across that stage. She spots her parents and Quinn and Brittany up in the far corner of the stadium, cheering so loudly Santana is sure she can hear despite the distance. Her heart swells in this moment, her hands shaking when she looks down at her diploma once she’s back in her seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything else about the ceremony is a blur, and before she knows it she is being pulled into a bone crushing hug by her parents before Quinn and Brittany are quickly joining in. It’s a lot of photos and “I’m so proud of you”s and quick witted comments by Quinn, but Santana doesn’t hate it at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They go out to dinner in the city, her parents surprising her when they lead her to the party room in the back, all rented out for her big day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doubles as a send off,” her mother chuckles. “One last hurrah before you go on tour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is so much pride in her mother’s eyes that Santana feels so incredibly full at this moment she’s sure she will combust. Her attention is brought away from her mother only when she hears the sound of cheers as they walk through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jaw drops in surprise when she sees a few of her relatives in the room, Brittany’s parents - who </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> Santana, by the way - as well as some of her friends. Mike and Tina are here as well as Mercedes, who Santana </span>
  <em>
    <span>swore</span>
  </em>
  <span> was stuck in Los Angeles for the next week with appearances and recording sessions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the last year, it’s no surprise Mercedes’ fame has risen quickly. And of course Santana’s proud of her, but because of it, she feels like she’s hardly seen Mercedes much between classes and recording sessions - and that doesn’t even include what Mercedes herself has been up to. So to see her here, standing in a restaurant in New York for Santana’s post grad celebration, it’s equal parts shocking and heart warming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” she practically demands as she comes to a stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere behind her, she hears Brittany giggle as Mercedes shoots her a knowing look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I wouldn’t come all this way to celebrate my homegirl?” she asks, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana’s face bursts into a grin before she’s pulling Mercedes into an uncharacteristic hug. Mercedes lets out a bark of laughter by surprise, but she doesn’t tease her friend at all, instead reciprocating a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations, you are one badass bitch,” Mercedes tells her with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana pulls away, giving her a slight smirk. “Haven’t I always been one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercedes lets out a loud laugh, but she grins at Santana like she agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She makes her rounds, accepting the congratulations and hugs that come her way. It still feels unreal when people ask her about her upcoming tour, about the cities she’ll sing in and the songs that have started climbing the charts since her album release.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not until much later that she finally finds a moment to sneak away from the conversations and congratulations to sit off to the corner with Brittany, who’s been watching her all night with that damn smile, the smile that’s always been just for Santana. Santana takes the seat next to her, which was previously occupied by Mike before he disappeared somewhere with Tina.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having fun?” Brittany asks, her hand coming down to give Santana’s knee a gentle squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana leans into her with a soft sigh as she says, “I can’t believe my parents did all this for me.” She turns to Brittany, smirking. “And you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Brittany repeats innocently, but she’s already shooting her a cheeky grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this why you haven’t started packing?” Santana teases. “Too busy plotting with my parents while I was taking finals?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany chuckles softly, the hand on Santana’s knee now snaking around her back to wrap an arm around her waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something like that,” she admits. “Quinn helped, too. We’re just all so proud of you, San. You deserve it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana just looks at Brittany in awe. “Have I ever told you I love you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany bites her lip, a playful look in her eyes as she responds in a low voice, “Tell me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it makes Santana’s insides turn, Brittany sounding like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> quiet only for Santana to hear. It makes her a little weak, how Brittany’s lips are so pink and her eyes are so blue and her face is so close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they’re currently in a restaurant with all their friends and family, so she manages to pull herself together enough to murmur, “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s eyes shine, like it’s the first time she’s hearing Santana say it all over again as her lips curve in that smile, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Santana’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana tilts her head up to kiss Brittany softly. Brittany smiles against her lips, and it’s not long before Santana’s smiling too as they pull away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This doesn’t get you out of not packing,” Santana informs Brittany, feigning seriousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany only laughs, pulling Santana closer into her side. She lets out a non-committal hum before pressing a kiss to Santana’s temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I <em>will</em> leave you behind,” Santana threatens weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany snorts, looking at her girlfriend with a smug grin. “Says the girl who literally invited me to come on tour with her before we even did our first show together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s something Santana remembers so clearly from that venue in Los Angeles. The shock of actually being on tour and seeing her name on the marquee running through her veins when Brittany found her in the hallway. She can recall in vivid detail how Brittany had insisted she’d be doing this all the time, going on tour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still blows her mind, even now, how sure and confident Brittany was in her - has always been in her - even when they hardly knew each other. It’s reassuring, though, that Brittany still makes her feel the way she did back then - breathless and on the cusp of feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but in the best possible way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana flushes, nudging at Brittany’s shoulder. “I wasn’t - you weren’t - we weren’t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Brittany tells her with a smug smile. “I think it was cute you were flirting with me before the show.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You basically accepted anyway,” Santana argues with a huff and a pout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany’s expression softens into something sweet as she replies, “Of course I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santana!” Quinn calls from the other side of the room, her smile big when she looks at the two of them. “Come cut your cake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Santana, I want dessert!” Mike pipes up, suddenly beside Quinn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brittany rolls her eyes at her best friend while Santana only laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Brittany says as she stands after untangling herself from her girlfriend, extending a hand out to Santana. “We’re not done celebrating you yet, superstar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Santana beams, taking Brittany’s hand and letting herself be tugged over to where everyone else is already gathered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, Santana really can’t believe her life.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>omg! We've made it to the end! Thank you to everyone who has read all the way through and to those who have even just read the slightest portion. This one was really fun to write despite how cautious I tend to be when writing AUs about these two. Thanks for letting me explore this universe with these two and their friends. I appreciate all the comments and thoughts y'all have shared throughout :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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